


Strangeness and Charm - Shadows of Amn

by AvandraTheMarySueSlayer



Series: Strangeness and Charm [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Canon Divergence, Drug Use, Exorcism in the first chapter, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy Racism, Femslash, Gore, Mentions of rape in the second chapter, Past child abuse in the first chapter, Slavery in some chapters because Athkatla is the shittiest place on Faerûn apparently, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-05-06 23:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 118,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14658443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvandraTheMarySueSlayer/pseuds/AvandraTheMarySueSlayer
Summary: After being tortured and experimented on by Jon Irenicus, Cat is left alone in a strange land, surrounded by enemies disguised as allies. She will need allies, as well as all of her guile and willpower to overcome the obstacles in her pace, both external and internal, in order to defeat Irenicus and save Imoen... and herself.





	1. Prologue: Unholy Father

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to this new part of the series Strangeness and Charm! I am glad I made it to SoA, it's probably my favorite Baldur's Gate game, with so many roleplaying options and character interactions! I would just like to leave a little warning; this part will get rather dark, because, well, Irenicus. And also Cat, to be honest. Still, I hope you enjoy this new story!

_Only living in the dark_

_Lights, they blind me_

_Can we go back, back to the start_

_Where the Holy Father made his mark?_

_For forgiveness, you could always pray_

_That the sickness would go away_

_At the altar, would you pay the price?_

_Would you give your, would you give your life?_

_Lights, they blind me..._

* * *

 

The cell chambers were dimly lit, though the source was artificial and there was no trace of sunlight, which made it impossible to tell what time it was. It was the second time Cat languished in a cell, and it was far less comfortable than the former. Not to mention more secure. She tried tugging at her chains; they were far thicker than those at the Flaming Fist headquarters where she had been imprisoned not long ago. And to think that she had just won a war…

 

Looking around, she saw two of the people who helped her escape her earlier confinement; Minsc and Jaheira, each in cages of their own. They appeared to be in a deep sleep. The remainder of her group was nowhere to be seen, and that concerned her. Jaheira's husband, Khalid, would not have willingly departed the woman's side. And Imoen… She was the one who worried the witch the most. Actually, truth be told, she was the only one she cared about, out of the whole bunch. Her childhood friend, who had been like a sister to Cat, and who had pulled all the possible strings and done the impossible to free her from her first prison, rightfully believing she did not commit the murder she had been charged with. No, that particular kill had been her new captor’s doing. With a powerful artifact called the Soultaker Dagger, he had slit Skie Silvershield's throat and imprisoned her soul within the weapon, making her resurrection impossible to achieve. The noblewoman had not been the only one to fall to the hooded man’s schemes; one of the few things she was able to recall about the night her group was ambushed was how another of her companions, a witch called Dynaheir, was stabbed to death by some of the shadowy figures who attacked the group, while others restrained Minsc, the invoker’s sworn protector, and made him watch, helpless, as his witch was slain. It had been a sight Cat would much rather forget, no matter how complicated her relationship with Dynaheir had been.

 

Right then, Cat heard a sound from her left. Steps coming her way. She knew what was to come. The hooded man, who took off her hood to reveal the repulsive… creature lying beneath as soon as he was in his dungeon, had been “examining” her body, with scalpels, scissors and paralyzing drugs, searching from the inside out for answers, for which questions, Cat couldn't tell. She was too preoccupied trying not to pass out from the pain, because the bastard did not bother to give her anything to numb the feeling of being cut open and having her organs scrutinized. He mumbled to himself as he did it, commenting on how _normal_ her human innards were. Had she been able to speak at the time, she would have asked what the fuck he had been expecting. Soon, the figure of Cat's torturer came into view. Since he was in that accursed place, he stood up straight, with no sight of his hunch. He also looked physically stronger. The witch tensed up immediately.

 

“Where am I? What have you done to Imoen?” She demanded like she always did, pulling at her chains.

 

“Rest assured that your friend has suffered no harm,” the man replied in that cold, emotionless deadpan of his. “We have finished your physical evaluation, and there seems to be nothing  out of the usual for a human in you. Thusly, we have reached the mental assessment phase. The procedures are mostly harmless, so long as you don’t resist them, as you will now see.”

 

“Oh, yeah, try me,” Cat growled, showing her teeth in a grin that would have sent a normal person running for the hills. “You're in for a world of pain for what you did.”

 

The man tilted his head to the side for all response, before opening the cage.

 

“I am afraid you have it backwards, Cat. Now, let me inside your mind. I want to learn everything about you.”

 

He extended one of those dead hands, and Cat felt the strongest assault against her consciousness in her whole life… and she had dealt with a mind flayer. Those cold, cold hands ripped her defenses and barriers apart like they were mere smoke, and when they pulled at her stream of thoughts, searching for the core of her memories, Cat began to hear a disembodied scream from far away. It took her a while to realize she was the one screaming. And then, just as abruptly as it started, the invasion of her mind ended… at least for a moment.

 

“What is this?” The hooded man commented out loud. “A repressed memory?”

 

Cat held onto her chains with all of her strength. Even though she hadn't moved a muscle, she was drenched in sweat, and panting.

 

“It seems that someone has blocked it from your conscious mind. But you see, total memory erasure is a feat yet to be conquered,” he explained, as his dead hands grabbed Cat's mind again, holding it against her waning will. “The imprint of the memory is always there, and whether it be magic or a trigger, it can always be brought back forth. Nothing is ever really forgotten. Are you not curious to see what has been hidden from you? Let us watch.”

 

Cat saw it, too. At the back of her consciousness, a pale mist that always seemed to elude her. Her captor managed to catch it, not unlike a fisherman with a net, and unveiled it into an image that soon sprung into motion. Cat was playing at the fountain in front of the great library of Candlekeep. In the background, Gorion and Ulraunt argued heatedly. Cat remembered that, though the memory had only come back to her in one of the dreams where Bhaal came to her. She remembered wondering why Gorion bothered to try; it was plain to see that they were unwanted in that place, that _she_ was unwanted, even though she was not older than six.

 

“This is but a frame of reference,” the hooded man explained. “The missing piece comes before.”

 

Then, she was at the library, searching for a book of tales to read, but she found something much more interesting. A scroll. At that age, she was already quite learned in the words of the arcane, so scrolls were no mystery to her, even though she still lacked the power to actually cast spells by herself. She knew that that day there was a really mean monk guarding the tomes. He had once kicked her out of a section he declared forbidden for “a brat like her”, while he was sitting at a table, looking at an illustrated book of naked nymphs. So she recited the words, and the arrow of fire flew direct to the monk's buttocks. Of course, she could not predict how powerful the spell actually was, neither would have she imagined that the man would run around in a panic, setting some very valuable books on fire and almost burning the whole library to the ground, were it not for Gorion's quick intervention. She remembered he was livid when the monk explained what had happened… and then she was playing at the fountain while her foster father argued with Ulraunt.

 

“And the other frame of reference. Let’s see what actually happened in between.”

 

Gorion grabbed Cat's hand and led her down a side corridor and up a spiral set of stairs that seemed to have no end. The young girl strived to keep up with the man's hurried pace, and she almost tripped a couple times.

 

“Father, I’m sorry, I didn't know it would hurt him so much, I just—”

 

“Hush,” he replied in a harsh tone.

 

“Where are we going? What’s going on?”

 

“Stay quiet!”

 

After a long way up, the stairs ended in front of an ornate door. Gorion knocked once. Cat heard muffled steps, and then the door opened to reveal Tethtoril. So those were his quarters? Was he going to punish Cat?

 

“Gorion, I was not expecting you,” he greeted the mage, surprise visible in his old, kind face. “And who do we got here? The little devilish Cattleya herself!”

 

“It’s Cat!” She protested.

 

The priest smiled, but the warm gesture soon fell when he saw Gorion's disturbed expression.

 

“What is it, my friend?”

 

“May we speak inside?”

 

Tethtoril's chambers were warm and comfortable. He had a little chapel dedicated to Mystra, where he prayed to the goddess, almost as many shelves cluttered with books as Gorion, a thick wool rug –Cat bared her feet and immediately took a seat on it, marvelling on its softness–, two armchairs next to a fireplace, and a separate bedroom. Tethtoril invited Gorion to sit down and offered him soothing lavender tea, which he rejected. Cat began to ask for hot chocolate, only to be quickly shushed by Gorion. Rubbing his temples, he explained the incident at the library.

 

“He is badly injured. She says she didn't mean to actually hurt him, but…”

 

“...but you are worried that the taint could be manifesting itself,” Tethtoril finished for him, the grave look on his face now matching Gorion's.

 

Both men stared in Cat’s direction, who nervously shifted from looking to one and the other.

 

“What’s happening? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Tethtoril sighed. Something was weighing heavy in his heart, it was plain to see in his pained expression.

 

“She is but a child of six. Are you certain it was not really a mere childhood prank that got out of hand?”

 

“She could have burned down the whole library, Tethtoril,” Gorion snapped back. “Not to mention how some of the magical tomes, scrolls and various items we keep in there could react to fire.”

 

“She told you herself; she did not mean to cause such harm.”

 

“It’s not her I worry about.”

 

“So you truly believe the taint can possess her and will her into doing evil?”

 

“Taint? What taint?” Cat asked. “What are you talking about, father? I am not evil, I was just pissed off!”

 

“Language, Cattleya!” Gorion barked.

 

“The Watchers say that all the time,” the girl mumbled, crossing her arms. “And it’s Cat. Father, is there something wrong with me?”

 

Gorion looked at his adoptive daughter as if it were the first time he saw her.

 

“I… I don't know,” he confessed in a sigh.

 

“Do you wish me to extract it from her? Is that it?” Tethtoril intervened, worry showing in his wrinkled visage.

 

“We need to know. If she can do things like this already, think of how dangerous she could become with time.”

 

“Father, I told you, I didn't mean to do it!” Cat pleaded, desperate. “Please, I’ll stop skipping my choirs, I’ll clean up the mess at the library, just don’t be mad at me!”

 

None of the men said anything to comfort the distressed child.

 

“I warn you, my friend; it will be risky… for her. And I cannot guarantee it can be done. It all depends whether the taint and herself are different entities or not.”

 

“What if they are not?” Gorion asked.

 

Tethtoril's expression darkened further. Cat never recalled seeing him like that.

 

“Then I am afraid she is beyond our help. The gods shall deem the evil inside her as her own.”

 

“What? No! I am not evil!” Cat protested, her green eyes big with fear. “Father, tell Tethtoril! Tell him I’m not evil!”

 

Gorion was lost in thought. He did not seem to find a plausible solution to the dilemma ahead of him.

 

“It’s the only way,” he concluded, with a hint of regret. “Do it.”

 

Tethtoril nodded.

 

“It will take me a few minutes to prepare the ritual,” he said before disappearing into his bedroom. Cat could hear movement inside, as if something heavy was being dragged.

 

“Ritual? What's going on? Father, what's wrong?”

 

“Be patient, child,” Gorion replied, not daring to look into his ward’s eyes. “It will all be over soon.”

 

“No, I don't want to do this!”

 

The girl tried to run away, but Gorion paralyzed her with a sigh. Tethtoril soon appeared at his sitting room again, sending the girl a pitiful look.

 

“It is ready,” he announced, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

 

“Let’s haste, this paralyzing spell is weak and should wear off soon,” Gorion replied as he carried the motionless child into Tethtoril's bedroom.

 

There were mystical inscriptions written all over the floor, and a circle of salt surrounded Tethtoril's bed, now positioned in the middle of the room. Gorion led his ward there, and the two men used rope to tie each of the girl’s extremities to the bed posts. She felt the paralysis wearing off, and she tried to escape that place, but it was to no avail; the knots she had been tied with her too tight for her to break free from. From the corner of the eye, she saw Tethtoril taking a glass vial from a nightstand as he murmured a prayer.

 

“Let us see her reaction to this first.”

 

“Blessed water? Isn’t that supposed to only damage the undead?” Gorion retorted, frowning.

 

“This blessing is of a different kind. It grants a powerful protection against evil, and so it can damage all kinds of evil creatures.”

 

“How did you come up with it?”

 

Tethtoril shrugged.

 

“I guess such are the advantages of the Chosen.”

 

Tethtoril sprinkled some of the water on the girl’s face. Even though it was actually cool, it boiled through her skin, opening sores in it. Cat screamed to the top of her lungs.

 

“AHHH! IT BURNS! IT BURNS! Please, father, stop, I’ll be good, I won't make any more pranks, I won't say swear words like the Watchers, I promise, please make it stop!”

 

Both men looked conflicted, as if giving a thought to help the child. Tethtoril was the first to react.

 

“This is not a good sign,” he said as he watched the screaming girl in horror. “The taint must be stronger than we thought.”

 

“We cannot stop now,” Gorion insisted, desperation lacing his voice. “We need to rid her of the evil inside her for good.”

 

“Gorion, my friend… this could kill her,” Tethtoril gasped, pained to see a child undergoing such suffering.

 

“It won't. Not if you keep healing her,” Gorion replied, determined. “As long as she remains tainted, she will never be a normal child. She will be driven to do evil, as she already has.”

 

“NO! I wasn't driven, I just wanted to teach that mean monk a lesson! Father, please…”

 

“Do it, Tethtoril.”

 

The old man extended a hand over Cat's body, mumbling a prayer. The sores on her face healed as if they had never been there, and the pain receded. However, her relief did not last long. Tethtoril began to recite other words, and his hands and eyes began to glow a blinding white.

 

“Interesting,” the hooded man commented on the scene. “He is being granted the favor of not only Mystra, but the other two good-aligned deities who protect him. Had their theories about your taint been true, he would have been more than able to exorcise it from you.”

 

“I compel you, evil within, leave this innocent child’s body for good!” Tethtoril's voice suddenly boomed, echoing in his room.

 

Cat began to shake and convulse, her pleas turning into helpless, pathetic croaking as the air was taken from her lungs by a smashing pressure on her chest. Cuts and sores began to appear all over her body, the blood running thick. The convulsions turned more violent, to the point where Gorion thought her spine was going to break, or that she would, indeed, break the ties that bound her with the increased strength she was using to pull at them. Cat used all of her will to resist the unbearable pain of the onslaught as Tethtoril continued commanding the evil within her to be purged from her. It was unfair, it was only a little prank to get her revenge for the man’s mistreatment. Why did she have to go through that terrible pain? Anger flared in the girl's chest, and she screamed. It was such a mighty, enraged sound that it sent both Tethtoril and Gorion flying and colliding against the opposite wall. It was so loud that it broke all the windows in the cleric’s tower. It was so mighty that it shook the ground. Her rage was such that she ripped the ropes apart with sheer strength.

 

The two men rose slowly, feeling sore from the impact against the wall. Cat watched them from the bed, now free from her ropes and ready to make a run for it if needed be. Her eyes were big and full of fear… and, for the first time in her life, loathing.

 

“Why have you done this to me?” She asked, merely a whisper, as his foster father approached her to assess her status.

 

“I… I…” The mage was at a loss for words. He turned to Tethtoril, who was leaning on a chair for support as he healed an injury on his hip from the collision. “Why hasn't it worked?”

 

As he finished healing himself, the cleric shook his head. Never had Cat seen such sadness in the eyes of a person.

 

“I am sorry, Gorion. The taint is no mere external influence. Perhaps what still remains of her father's essence can push her, drive her into evil deeds… but the taint and the evil it brings is all hers.”

 

Upon hearing such news, Gorion looked at his adoptive daughter as if she had just morphed into a fiend from the Nine Hells. He took a step towards her, she shimmied back in the bed.

 

“No! I won’t do it again! Don’t come any closer!” She cried out, tears streaming down her face as her adoptive father's true nature laid revealed to her.

 

“I am so sorry, child,” Gorion apologized. It sounded wholehearted, but Cat could not trust him anymore. How could she, after what he had allowed to happen to her? “I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you from deviating into your inner darkness. We cannot strip you from it, but we can control it.”

 

Then, he slowly extended a hand. Cat slapped it as she jumped from the bed.

 

“No! Don’t you touch me! I won't let you hurt me again!”

 

Then, she took a deep breath and let out the words that were burning in her heart and mind to be let out.

 

“I HATE YOU!”

 

Gorion stopped in his tracks, shaken by the child's sudden outburst. He looked back to Tethtoril. The cleric had his gaze fixed on the floor in deep regret. What had been done could not be undone. The monster made could not be unmade. Unless…

 

“It’s alright, my child. I will make it so it doesn't hurt anymore, never again,” he promised, with a soothing voice she hadn't heard in the whole day.

 

Then, he raised a hand again and reached into her mind. Cat just stood there, a child of six, unable to resist.

 

“When I’m done with this, you won't remember a thing,” Gorion stated. “You won’t suffer anymore… and you _will_ be redeemed.”

 

In a flash, the whole scene vanished, and Cat was back at her cell, with her torturer. His lifeless blue eyes stared at her. Though he was incapable of showing emotion in that leathery, crumpled down face, he sometimes showed hints of mild interest in his voice. Like that time.

 

“So the taint of Bhaal is an inherent part of your being… well, that doesn't change anything,” he commented. “That rage, however… it empowered you, just like when I tried to check that you had no recollection of my involvement in Skie Silvershield's murder. Perhaps that was the key I was looking for? We shall see. We have concluded, for now.”

 

And he left, as cold and uncaring as he always was, paying no mind to Cat's tears, the same way he did with her screams.

 

_How could Gorion do that to me?_


	2. The rage within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat must cooperate with Imoen, Jaheira, Minsc, and a new ally to find a way out of Irenicus' lair. However, the experiments the mage performed in the Bhaalspawn are beginning to take a toll in her self-control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new installment of Strangeness and Charm - Shadows of Amn. This chapter covers Irenicus' dungeon and is VERY long, but I felt unable to cut it into two or shorten it, as everything that happens will have an effect on Cat. After all, this initial phase at Irenicus' lair is what propels SoA's story. I would also like to address this chapter's content with the following warnings: there will be mentions of torture, rape, self-harming and attempted suicide, as well as gore and violence. As I said before, this story will get rather dark, but I think most of the content warnings will only apply to the first two chapters. Because, you know, Irenicus. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

 

 

_ Hey pig _

_ Yeah you _

_ Hey pig piggy pig pig pig _

_ All of my fears came true _

_ Black and blue and broken bones _

_ You left me here, I'm all alone _

_ Hey pig _

_ There's a lot of things I hoped you could help me understand _

_ What am I supposed to do? _

_ Lost my shit because of you _

_ Nothing can stop me now, 'cause I don't care anymore _

* * *

 

“Cat.”

 

All of her body hurt after the “session”. Ever since that monster of a man found out how to fuel her power, he had been coming up with new, creative, vexing, and insufferably painful ways to draw out her rage. Sometimes his presence was more than enough for her to feel it; hot, dark and deadly, rising on her chest, and she’d lunge herself at him, roaring like a wild animal, despite knowing well it was fruitless. It was like she was being robbed of her senses.

 

“Cat, wake up!”

 

The last “session” had consisted on good old-fashioned magic torture. She tried to move, to get up from the floor, but it provoked a burning pain, especially in her head, the part he had messed up the most.

 

“CATTLEYA!”

 

“It’s Cat, dammit!” She finally managed to reply, her voice hoarse.

 

Then she remembered there was only one person so far away from Candlekeep who would call her that, and wincing in pain, she managed to rise to a sitting position. Indeed, Imoen stood outside her cage, offering a helping hand. Images flashed through Cat's head, of their childhood together, of the day they met; when she had wanted to impress the new girl with her cantrips but accidentally dyed her originally dark hair pink permanently. Just as Gorion was about to tell her off, the girl gave Cat her first bear hug, stating that she loved pink and that she had always dreamed of having pink hair. Cat managed to smile despite the pain, and took the hand that was offered.

 

_ “What’s this?” Irenicus asked, more to himself than to Cat, as the image of little Imoen hugging Cat ran through her head. After another flash of scenes from the witch's memories, he stopped at a much more recent one; a half-orc, laying naked over her, his hands gripping her hips, a half smile on his face. _

 

_ “As my goddess commands,” he said in a tone of reverence before thrusting inside her. _

 

_ The flash of memories stopped, and Cat was able to breathe again. _

 

_ “Affection,” her captor observed. “I used to harbor such feelings, too. They make you vulnerable. Weak. But fear not; I shall not touch these memories of yours. Affection inevitably leads to betrayal…” _

 

_ Another flash, this time of something Cat did not recall, for it had never happened. With an anguished cry, Imoen stabbed Cat with her short sword from behind. As she sputtered blood, she saw the looming figure of Dorn charging towards her, his greatsword raised to attack. With a mighty roar, he beheaded her. Then, both the rogue and the blackguard vanished into thin air. Cat’s tormentor picked up her severed head in the way a mother would hold a newborn, though there was no love, no emotion, nothing in those dead blue eyes. _

 

_ “When betrayal happens, I am certain you will release a lot of your potential, if not all of it.” _

 

“Cat? Are you alright?”

 

The mage blinked, returning to the present. Imoen shot her a strange look; a combination of worry and pity.

 

“He’s messed with your head, too, right?” She asked in a whisper.

 

Cat just nodded. She didn't want to go into details. Then she realized the meaning of Imoen's words.

 

“You too?” Cat gasped.

 

Imoen looked away.

 

“He’s been doing… things… said something about 'releasing the potential’... and my head’s about to explode,” she whispered, rubbing her temples in an attempt to soothe the pain. “It’s like having a dagger inside my bones.”

 

Cat was at a loss for words. She understood that their captor was interested in her Bhaalspawn powers, but why did he torment Imoen, too? What was the potential he was trying to release from her? Perhaps he wished to force her into apprenticeship?

 

“Stop giving me that look!” The former rogue suddenly exploded. “It’s just a headache, okay? C’mon, let’s move. I think I saw some of our weapons in a room to the west. The bastard probably sold the best gear, but anything’s better than nothing. Besides, I think there might be another key to one of our friends’ cells.”

 

Cat glanced in the direction of her “friends”. They had suffered no further harm than being caged and heavily drugged, for the moment. Although they would have never aided her in her prison break without Imoen's intervention, she was certain she would need their help once more to get out of that accursed place.

 

“How did you manage to free yourself, by the way?” Cat asked on their way to the armory Imoen spoke of.

 

“It’s… all a little foggy, actually,” the young woman confessed. “Some people infiltrated the place. There was a fight… and my cage got damaged, so I took the chance to escape.”

 

Cat followed her best friend into the room she mentioned. The mage stopped in her tracks when she saw a clay golem, but Imoen walked past it as if it weren't even there. It clearly hadn't been programmed to attack.

 

“Prisoners,” its mechanical voice said, “you must head back to your cages. The master wills it.”

 

As Imoen kept ignoring him and searching the place for the keys, Cat decided to try her luck with the construct.

 

“Who is this master you speak of? What’s his name?” She asked.

 

“I am not allowed to divulge such information. All I am tasked to do is order you to return to your cages, as the master wishes.”

 

Imoen signaled to Cat, and showed her a bright, golden key. The witch made a thumbs up sign.

 

“No, thank you. We won't be returning to our cages. We are leaving. Catch us if you can,” she snorted.

 

“I have not been programmed to stop you. That's what the guardian is for. He shall stop you if you continue any further.”

 

“Yeah, whatever. We’ll be going now,” Cat replied, brushing off the golem’s warning with a wave of her hand. “As for that guardian, I will be more than pleased to meet him.”

 

Imoen handed Cat a quarterstaff, and she took a short  sword for herself. They agreed to go help their companions and allow them to pick their gear. Cat thought it best to pick up as much as they could carry, so they could sell whatever they didn't need as soon as they were out of that hell hole. Back at the prison chamber, Imoen used the key on Jaheira's cell, and she was fred.

 

“Thank you, Imoen,” she said. “I suggest that we move fast, I have not seen Khalid since we got here, and it worries me.”

 

_ “Do it, Cat! Release me!” _

 

Cat rubbed her temples to ease her headache. Both Jaheira and Imoen noticed.

 

“Do you need healing?” Jaheira offered. “I can—”

 

“No!” Cat raised her arms defensively by reflex. “No, it’s… alright, I just need to get out of here.”

 

Jaheira shot her the first sympathetic look in the whole time they had met.

 

“You took the brunt of his torment,” she said. “I heard your screams. I wish I could have done something about it.”

 

“There is nothing you or anyone could have done,” Cat cut the woman off, wishing to hear none of her fake sympathy. “We must focus on the here and now, which begs questioning, can we free Minsc with Jaheira's key, Imoen?”

 

“I’m afraid not,” the woman replied while trying said key with the huge ranger’s lock. “It seems each key is specially designed for one cage.”

 

That was when Minsc spoke, trying to get up, still a little groggy from the strong drug which had kept him from trying to escape up until then.

 

“They have kept me behind bars,” he exclaimed, “not even all of my might could help me escape!”

 

Of course it couldn't. Minsc and Jaheira had been kept alive to serve as leverage, in case Cat decided to rebel, like that time… or as fodder to further her rage, like…

 

“What? We don’t have any more keys, so if you can’t break the bars by yourself I’m afraid we’ll have to leave you on your own,” Cat replied in her coldest tone.

 

“What!?” Minsc roared. “After what Dynaheir, Boo and I have done for you… after they made me watch as they killed my witch… as I failed my dajemma… you would abandon a friend in need!?”

 

With a deafening cry, he held the bars and used all of his might to bend them, the metal crumbling beneath his might until he made an opening the size of a man like him. He stomped out of the cage like a bull.

 

“Now I shall make you pay. I will… I…”

 

Cat crossed her arms and waited, tilting her head to the side with a small smirk. After a moment, the man put two and two together and broke into laughter. It was a sound Cat hadn't heard in a very long time, and her ears welcomed it gladly.

 

“Ah, you are so smart,” he chuckled. “You tricked Minsc into going into a berserker rage so he could get free from his confinement! Sometimes you are almost as smart as Boo!”

 

The little hamster emerged from a pocket in Minsc’s clothes and climbed all the way up to his shoulder, squealing in what anyone as mad as Minsc could interpret as agreement.

 

“How did you keep Boo hidden all this time?”

 

Minsc's expression changed abruptly to a serious one the witch had seldom seen in his face.

 

“There are secrets that must not be revealed, but kept instead between a man and his rodent companion.”

 

“I… see,” Cat replied, knitting her eyebrows. “I guess I don’t really want to know.”

 

Cat and Imoen showed their companions the armory. Minsc and Jaheira chose their equipment and helped to carry whatever could become useful for a later occasion. Then, Imoen found a dagger in a trapped container with a weak magic enhancement. Cat took it from her friend, who shot her an inquisitive look. 

 

“I have learned to use these,” the witch simply replied.

 

_ The mage kept searching inside Cat's head, eventually finding the dreams Bhaal had used to communicate with her. He saw her reject the dagger of bone to finish off Mulahey, choosing to strangle him with a vampiric touch instead. Then, the voice that she now knew belonged to her father echoed in the empty space. _

 

_ “You must use the tools you have been granted.” _

 

_ When the dagger found her heart, Cat felt the pain again, just like when she had the dream. Her torturer watched her scream and clutch her chest. _

 

_ “So you have chosen to deviate from the path your father has designed for you,” he just said. “It seems I am going to have to make a few adjustments.” _

 

_ That was the first time he introduced ideas and concepts in her mind. It was a lot worse than when he pulled at her memories to watch. His decayed hands touched her, and she thought she would black out from the pain. He planted a rotten seed in her thoughts, which grew and bloomed into a new concept; a new skill. All the while the swirl of images kept passing by for the man–if he was a man at all– to see. _

 

_ “Some ideas of yours are… problematic,” he commented, pausing to watch her actions at the Cloakwood mines and scrutinize her thoughts at the time. “They hinder your progress; they bar you from reaching your full potential. I shall rid you of them.” _

 

_ Then, Cat fought with all of her will, put her everything into preserving her mind as it was, but he was much stronger than her, and he severed the connections that held her thoughts together. The pain of it was so unbearable that she thought she would actually die from it. Her nose bled, she couldn't breathe, her arms and face burned. She screamed and watched helplessly as he  _ stole  _ memories and concepts that used to belong to her. Then, he healed the wounds that she had been inflicting to herself to make the pain in the core of her very being go away. She didn't give a fuck that was the reason why she actually felt physical pain that time. She didn't give a fuck that the deep scratches on her arms and face disappeared as if they had never been there. She just laid on the floor, screaming in mourning of what she had just been stolen, even if she couldn't remember anymore. She kept screaming until she lost her voice. _

 

The group had to fight its way through goblins and mephits, disable traps, and find themselves at a dead end when they reached locked doors beyond Imoen's abilities.

 

“I think they require a key,” she explained. “Until we find it, we won't be able to get through.”

 

In another room, they found a complex mechanism that held a cambion. Perhaps that was the guardian the golem spoke of?

 

“I think the master of this dungeon uses this machine to contain this creature and draw energy from it,” Imoen confirmed. “He once commented he had promised it the flesh of any who tried to escape.”

 

Cat shot a look of worry at her friend. Definitely, that man was trying to make Imoen into her apprentice. It was the only possible explanation for all the knowledge she had about the dungeon. As for the cambion, the woman reached into the machine. There was a lever in it. When she pulled it down, the energy field that contained the fiend visibly became weaker, and it began to growl menacingly at the group.

 

“Are you certain you know what you’re doing?” Jaheira questioned the mage.

 

“Oh, come on, we could all use a little more exercise, those goblins and mephits were hardly a challenge,” Cat replied, grinning, as she pulled the lever again, making the barrier disappear completely. She had been feeling the bloodlust and the rage since she woke up, and they were nigh insatiable.

 

The cambion lunged at the group, roaring in rage. It was met with Minsc's greatsword, Jaheira's club, Imoen's short sword and a magic missile, courtesy of Cat. That did seem to piss it off. It had probably been tortured with magic as well.

 

“Over here, you ugly thing!” Cat provoked her foe from behind the lever.

 

As the fiend raced after her, Imoen pulled a short bow she had taken from a goblin corpse and shot a few arrows at him, but the cambion was fixated with Cat, so even though a few hit their target, it did not deviate from its path. Cat danced around, avoiding its attacks, and then, all of a sudden, she took its eye with a flash. The dagger had been buried all the way up to the fiend's brain, and so it fell dead before the mage. With a broad smile, she searched its gear, and found a bigger, better dagger.

 

“It seems I found myself a new toy,” she said, her lips curved in a wild, mad smile. She had been searching for death to inflict, and now she would be able to bring even more.

 

Ignoring her companions’ bewildered looks, she stood back up and kept walking, determined to find her way out of that place, and to slay anyone and anything that stood in her way. And so, the group embarked in its bizarre, disturbing journey around the dungeon. They found two inactive golems they decided to ignore, a room full of glass containers filled with a mysterious fluid where strange creatures, or what remained of them, floated, lifeless, or barely alive. The containers lacked a power source, which made it impossible to give the still living beings the energy they needed to awaken. However, the key laid close, in a separate room where only one of said containers stood. The thing inside it was very much alive. It was then that Cat understood what that fluid was.

 

“It nourishes them, gives them all the nutrients they need to survive,” she explained.

 

“How do you know this?” Jaheira inquired.

 

_ Because he forced it into my veins when I rebelled against him, when I found out he wanted my rage, when I tried to starve myself to death so I could deny him his prize. He does not let me live, yet he won't let me die. _

 

“I am a mage, remember?” She replied instead, pointing up her chin in pride. “While I admit I am not quite as formidable as our captor, I did learn a thing or two as well.”

 

Right then, the thing in the glass tank spoke for the first time.

 

“Master? Is that you?” Its disembodied voice said. “It has been so long… I… I can't remember…”

 

Cat quickly strode to the tank to try and speak with the creature. Perhaps it held valuable information about the man who had been tormenting her, or better yet, an exit to his hellish home.

 

“Who is your master?”

 

“Master, why have you abandoned me? Why have you forgotten your Rielev? I was always loyal, oh, so loyal…” the pathetic servant cried.

 

“Can you even hear me?” Cat insisted. “If you were so loyal to your master, why did he let you suffer like this, Rielev?”

 

The strange mass of limbs seemed to turn to Cat at the mention of its name, as if it had just noticed her.

 

“I was… dying, or dead, I can't remember,” Rielev replied. “Master said it would be alright, and then he put me in this tank and kept me here, forgotten, abandoned, alone in the line between life and death…”

 

“I saw others like you,” Cat said. “But I cannot find a power source to awaken them and speak to them. Do you know where I can find it?”

 

“You need… batteries,” Rielev replied. “Like the ones in my tank. Oh, how I long to cross the line…”

 

Cat understood.

 

“Would you like me to remove them? To release you of the pain of your unlife?”

 

“Yesss!” Rielev hissed with excitement. “Release… please. I have languished here for so long… I am so tired…”

 

“It’s alright, Rielev. I’ll free you from your pain,” Cat replied in a soothing tone.

 

“The others… you are the master’s prisoners, aren’t you? If you use my batteries… They may have useful information that could help you to escape.”

 

“Thank you, Rielev,” Cat said, placing a hand on the glass tank. “Sleep well.”

 

Then, she took the batteries from the lower side of the tank and watched as Rielev gave his last breath.

 

“Release… at least, release!”

 

The thing went limp. Imoen had her eyes fixed on its corpse, big as saucers.

 

“It’s… dead? That pathetic creature…” She stammered. “I can’t take my eyes away from it.”

 

“It suffers no longer,” Cat replied, oddly satisfied with her half-selfless deed. It was strange that non-violent death would make her feel so good. Cat felt a tug at her chest; there was something she had forgotten, and it was important.

 

“Death is… pretty,” Imoen mused. Then, she covered her mouth and gasped. “Why did I say that?”

 

The former rogue threw herself into Cat's arms. The witch held her firmly as she sobbed, swearing to herself that the man who tortured her would beg for his own death once she found him.

 

“Oh, Cat, I need to get out of this place!” Imoen wailed.

 

“We will. I promise,” Cat whispered, caressing her friend’s hair as she felt her tears falling on her shoulder. It became clear to the witch that the man was somehow obsessed with death, and planted those ideas into Imoen's mind. Was he trying to turn her into her enemy, maybe, so he could break the witch and get her to stop resisting his torture? Whatever the answers were, she would not find them in that room, and she did not wish to further torment Imoen by making her reminisce whatever horrors she had endured at that madman’s hand. So the only way to go, once more, was forward.

 

From the tortured beings in the tanks, Cat learned four things: first, the owner of the dungeon had a “mistress” she had never seen, whose room was likely full of traps; second, there was a golem who did the cleaning of the sewage system when activated and could open doors locked for anyone but it; third, there was a djinni trapped in there as well –who Minsc insisted in aiding, and Cat thought there would be no harm in trying to gain some extra information or even a potential helping hand–; and fourth, the master had hired some duergar to kill any prisoner who tried to escape. The golem was nearby, and upon activating it, Cat commanded it to do its cleaning choirs. It was a good thing that her captor hadn't thought of making it able to recognize voice patrons, or even bothered to make eyes for it.

 

After opening the door to the sewage and fighting a pesky otyugh, the group found itself at yet another dead end; a door which had a hole in the form of a statuette for a lock. They'd have to try another path. The one they chose took them to a small, yet rather ornate room, with rich Calishite rugs and paintings of intricate friezes on the wall. There was also luxurious ebony furniture. It was hard to believe that a place like that could exist in the hellish dungeon they were trying to escape, and yet… Cat felt a chill down her spine. There was something very wrong about that place, though she could not make out what it was.

 

“These are his bedchambers,” Imoen explained with a strangely emotionless voice. “Careful where you step, this is full of traps.”

 

Awaiting no response, she took a couple steps ahead and proceeded to search for the traps… or rather, walk directly towards them, just to disarm them at just one finger from activating them. She knew that place; she had been there. As much as Cat needed as much information as possible, she decided not to ask. The fact that she knew her way around that specific place could not mean anything good. So she let her do her work and retrieve all sorts of potentially useful objects, including the statuette that could open the mysterious locked door. It was shaped after an air elemental, so Cat had a pretty clear idea of where it would lead them. Once all the traps were disarmed and Imoen gave the group everything she found, the witch looked everywhere, searching for the Soultaker  Dagger, but there was no trace of it. Frustrated, she began to push at the furniture and tear at the linens of the murderer’s bed. She didn’t stop destroying the room until Imoen grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her to make her snap out of it, which nearly cost her her own throat. Cat gasped and let go of her dagger as she realized what she almost did. Imoen, however, was as understanding as ever.

 

“I know you want to bring back Skie, but the dagger’s not here. Maybe he has it with him. But we’ll find it, I promise.”

 

“I almost had it,” Cat mumbled.

 

“Huh?” Imoen blinked in confusion.

 

The more veteran mage shook her head.

 

“Nothing… let’s just go free the djinni and see what happens.”

 

Thinking of the djinni brought a strange feeling… or rather, a lack thereof, to Cat. Where there used to be something important, only a void remained, similarly to what she felt with Rielev, but… different somehow. Deciding it would be best to dwell on it later, she led the way back to the statuette door, opened it, and the escaped prisoners found themselves in a whole different plane. They were aboard a ship of sorts with airscrews on the sides. Looking from the gunwale, there was only an empty purple void. The trapped djinni looked pleased to hear that they were willing to help him, and made an interesting revelation.

 

“You are Cat, the Bhaalspawn, yes?” He asked the mage.

 

“How do you know my name?” She demanded in turn.

 

“Your name is known to those who listen and pay attention,” the djinni answered with a mysterious smile. “I happen to be guarding an object of your possession. If you were to free me, I could return it to you.”

 

Cat smiled. It turned out that Minsc's altruistic streak did have some benefits after all. The hole in her chest hurt a little, and she felt her head throbbing. Again, she ignored it.

 

“Well, then, how may I release you?”

 

“This bottle I have emerged from,” he explained while signaling the colorful glass vial the group had found in the ship, “is but a replica of my real confinement. Find it, and return it to me.”

 

“Any ideas about where it might be?”

 

“I am one of the master's most prized possessions, so he must have left it in his chambers, or with someone he trusts. Perhaps the duergar, or the dryads.”

 

“He has dryads, too?” Jaheira asked in surprise, wondering how the mage managed to sustain the creatures underground.

 

“The duergar stand watch before their garden and are tasked to ensure they cannot escape. The poor creatures are his prisoners, like all of us,” the genie explained. “If they are the ones who custody my bottle, they might be more prone to aid you than the dwarves.”

 

“Thank you for the information,” Cat bowed her head slightly, out of politeness. “We shall return with your bottle.”

 

Thusly, the heroes and Cat continued their exploration of the dungeon in search for the duergar or the dryads. Imoen grabbed Cat's arm with a silly smile of mocked superiority.

 

“You know, I learned about the duergar while you were busy skipping your lessons,” she said, trying to make light of their current situation like she always did. “They are a subrace of dwarves who live underground, have gray skin and—”

 

“Imoen,  _ please _ ,” Cat cut her friend off in a tone that matched the new mage's joking. “I only skipped that lesson because I had already read about them, and it’s not like those books written by self-entitled racist bigots could teach too much, aside from the basics.”

 

“Well,  _ these  _ duergar our mysterious captor has are clearly evil if they are working for him,” Imoen insisted.

 

“Maybe. Or maybe they were just  _ forced _ to work for him, like his other servants,” Cat replied, shrugging. “My point is; don’t make your judgement until you’ve seen all of the evidence.”

 

“Sounds like a fast way to die,” Imoen muttered.

 

Cat’s eyes widened.

 

“Wait just a minute, where did you learn cynicism?”

 

Imoen let out a bitter chuckle.

 

“Well, here, in my cell, while that maniac did horrible things to me,” she waved with her hand, signaling the whole of the place they stood at. “He’s nothing but death, and right now the only thing in my mind is escaping this place alive. So if that means I gotta say something racist, then I’m freakin’ gonna do it!”

 

“Okay… I guess it’s an acceptable point,” Cat conceded, still eyeing her friend with some worry.

 

_ If that is so, how do you like me now as a Bhaalspawn, Imoen?  _ She thought, following her friend as she checked the passage for possible traps.

 

The dwarves turned out to be behind the very next door, and as Imoen predicted, attacked them on sight. Their leader was a cleric, so Cat decided to focus on him first. Imoen, in the meantime, exchanged shots with a dwarf who wielded a crossbow. Both mages were almost out of spells due to the heavy amount of enemies they’d had to fight on their way. When Cat spotted a dwarven wizard, she signaled Minsc to go after him. It was amazing how he managed to coordinate his attacks with Boo’s, who threw himself to the enemies’ eyes on Minsc's command as he slashed through them with his greatsword, always finding a moment to literally kick their behinds “for goodness”. In the meantime, Imoen paused her shooting to try her luck with a sleep spell… which effectively made some of the dwarves fall asleep, so the rest of the group could focus on bringing their leader down. Dealing with asleep fighters was never a hard task, so soon they were done and free to register their bodies. Cat was rather surprised to find acorns in the cleric’s pockets. Jaheira crouched to inspect them.

 

“Perhaps they belong to the captive dryads,” she ventured. “If that is the case, we should return them so they can break free from such a terrible confinement.”

 

As the djinni explained, they found the dryads’ garden just outside the duergars’ quarters. The three children of the trees were impossibly beautiful, and for a moment, the four escapees could do nothing but stare at them in awe. Cat broke from their spell the fastest; her whole life had been rather ugly, and during her imprisonment, it only got worse, so while she was momentarily stunned by the literal natural charm of the dryads, her head was too filled with death for her to fully fall under their spell. Imoen followed suit, and the three were aware of it. They looked scared of Cat, but approached Imoen with sympathetic gestures. Soon, Jaheira and Minsc were released from the hold they inadvertently put on those who laid eyes on them.

 

“You are the one Irenicus was seeking,” one of the dryads finally addressed Cat. “The child of death.”

 

Cat was about to correct her, stating that it was actually the Lord of Murder who had actually fathered her… but then it dawned on her. She remembered the vision of her father's murder at Boareskyr Bridge, and the story of the Dead Three and how they acquired their respective portfolios. Bhaal initially ruled over death itself, all sorts of it; from the murder he favored to mercy killings like that Cat had granted Rielev. Death could be violent, but also peaceful. It had no alignment, no ties to bind, and claimed everything and everyone in the end. Her father had indeed been a fool to limit his own portfolio just to appear more fearsome. But, why did she give her father so much thought? The answer to that question still eluded her, and it was frustrating.

 

“So now we have his name,” Jaheira hissed. “Irenicus. He will pay for his sins.”

 

Another of the dryads turned to Jaheira.

 

“You wish to escape? Then you will need the key to the portal,” she explained. “He keeps it in the mistress’ bedchambers, to the south.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Jaheira shook her head. “If he already has a mistress, why does he keep you as prisoners? We are aware that his magic is much stronger than yours, so that cannot be the reason.”

 

The three creatures of the forest looked at one another, uncomfortable. The one who hadn’t spoken yet responded.

 

“He  _ had  _ a mistress. But she despises him, and she is long gone.”

 

_ I can’t imagine why,  _ Cat thought in disdain.

 

“So he took us as his concubines, planted trees for us in this garden and kept us prisoners.”

 

“That… that’s awful,” Imoen gasped, and her face contorted in rage. “I spit on his name. I spit on this whole place.”

 

The third dryad locked eyes with the young woman, who quickly looked away. The dryad put a comforting hand on her shoulder and lifted her chin gently, in search of eye contact.

 

“He has touched you as well, hasn’t he?”

 

In that moment, Cat could hear Imoen’s breathing stop with a gasp. She could feel the shocked stares of Minsc and Jaheira on her friend as if they were falling on her. The suspicions she held before, at Irenicus’ chambers, had just been confirmed, and with them came the rage. The same that had been her only company during those long days in the mage's clutches. Her hands began to tremble, and her left instinctively moved to the sheath of her dagger… No, there were no enemies to cut open in that place, she needed to breathe… to calm down… As for the others, Minsc frowned and approached the woman, probably to comfort her, only to stop in his tracks and back away, a sadness in his eyes that Cat only saw when he spoke of Dynaheir's death. Jaheira went pale. Her mistreatment only extended to being heavily drugged and confined in a cage, which in itself was terrible enough for someone as connected to nature as herself, but to a half-elf like her, Imoen was but a child, so finding out what their enemy had done to her horrified her.

 

“He kidnapped us because of our power to instill emotions; desire, in others,” the dryad continued. “But his heart is barren, he is empty inside.”

 

“He is beyond all that,” Imoen spat. “Death is all he thinks about.”

 

The first dryad spoke again.

 

“Our trees won’t survive much longer in this decaying place. We need our acorns to be set free.”

 

“You mean these ones?” Cat was finally able to speak again, as she pulled the acorns from her pocket.

 

The three dryads held hands and laughed in excitement. Though the sound was sweeter than any melody Cat had ever heard, she could tell they had almost forgotten how to do it. She couldn't blame them. There was no place for joy in Irenicus’ lair; only death. The hole in Cat’s chest twisted, almost leaving her breathless.How much had she forgotten?

 

“The first step is complete,” the first dryad said. “But we need you to do another favor for us.”

 

“Take the acorns to the Fairy Queen in the Windspear Hills!” The second one exclaimed. “We cannot abandon our trees and survive, so we need someone else to do it for us. If the Queen plants the acorns, we shall be free again!”

 

Sex slaves deemed useless because of the man's own inability to feel anything, then abandoned and forgotten, yet kept captive nonetheless, languishing along with their trees. Cat was sure that Irenicus had decided to do that on purpose, in order to see how creatures of beauty like them would perish, to take note of the process and inspect the results, like he did whenever he tortured her. And to make matters worse, he tried it with Imoen, too. Did he wish to turn her into his new “mistress”? Cat knew she should keep herself level-headed, to think rationally and find that monster’s true intentions… but right then, it didn't matter. What he’d done to the dryads… to Imoen… it was sickening.

 

“We will help you,” Cat assured the dryads. “And Irenicus will pay for this. But in exchange, there is something I need to ask. There is an imprisoned djinni not far from here who needs his bottle in order to regain his freedom, so he’ll return something that belongs to me. He told us that maybe Irenicus entrusted you with it. Do you know anything about it?”

 

The third dryad smiled.

 

“Indeed, he gave it to us, knowing full well that we could not walk away from our trees to free him by ourselves. The bottle is yours now, child of death.”

 

Hearing that name from their lips made Cat feel uncomfortable. They were creatures of light and glee, not meant for ugly things like that dungeon, Irenicus… or herself.

 

“Thank you,” she said before heading back to free the djinni. She said nothing to Imoen about what had just been revealed; she didn't know what to say, and how to say it without the rage making its destructive appearance once more.

 

On their way back to the plane of air, Jaheira tried to raise the subject.

 

“Imoen, if you wish to talk—”

 

“No,” the former thief cut her off rather abruptly, and then somehow managed to show a sad smile. “Sorry, Jaheira, but I’d rather not think of that. I just… I just want to forget it.”

 

“As you wish,” the druid nodded, deciding to respect the younger woman's wishes.

 

* * *

 

“Freedom, at last!” The djinni exclaimed. “And now, Bhaalspawn, you shall receive your prize.”

 

“How is it a prize if it already belonged to me?” Cat asked, rolling her eyes. She was definitely not in the mood for djinni rethorics.

 

“Ah, but it is a prize you once won, albeit at no small cost,” the djinni replied. “Your companions almost lost their lives, but you stood strong and triumphant. In the face of death, you laughed. And then you burned it, and you became death.”

 

Cat stared in awe at the sword. Most of its enchantments had died with its previous owner, but it was still a formidable weapon nonetheless. She picked it up –with some difficulty, due to its weight– and offered it to Minsc.

 

“You are good with greatswords,” she told him. “You are going to make a better use of this than I while we’re here.”

 

The ranger took the greatsword, tried a few swings and smiled.

 

“Minsc and Boo shall smite the evil sorcerer who dared to cage us with this!”

 

Cat faked a smile. It was best to go along with the Rashemi’s weird delusions.

 

_ We are going to need a lot more than just the Sword of Chaos, my pal. _

 

The trip back to the dryads’ garden, and to the infamous mistress’ room, was a silent one. It then came to Cat's mind that perhaps Irenicus had only bothered to create an underground garden for the mystery woman's stay to be more pleasant. And then, when she was gone, it was easier to have dryads keeping the garden alive… and heating his bed at night. Just the thought of it made Cat's blood boil. She closed her hands into fists as they walked by the beautiful creatures. Imoen stopped for a moment to speak to them, and Cat signaled the group to stand aside. If they were going to speak about what they went through, they should at least have some privacy. The dryads understood what happened to the mage; they lived the same hell in their own skin, so they were probably the most adequate for Imoen to turn to if she needed to talk about the matter.

 

*~*~*

 

“Still from here, I can sense the hate,” the young mage said. “She hates him, and he hates her for that. Or at least, he used to, when he could still feel.”

 

The dryad who had been last to speak caressed Imoen's cheek. The former thief closed her eyes and shuddered. It had been so long since the last time she had felt such a gentle touch…

 

“His dead heart shall be his doom. I have no doubt,” the dryad spoke. Her voice was so soft and sweet… “You are much stronger than he is, human. There is still kindness in your heart, even if all you can feel now is darkness. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.”

 

Then, she discreetly pointed at Cat, who awaited patiently from a distance with Minsc and Jaheira.

 

“That one,” the dryad said. “She is death and darkness, and she would do unspeakable things just to keep you safe. You feel resentment now, I understand, but trust her and her words. It is your sake she cares about the most.”

 

“Yeah… that’s how the trouble began,” Imoen sighed. If she hadn't been so impulsive… She should have known Cat could have done well on her own, she had always been the smartest, the most powerful out of them. Instead, she chose to follow her like a puppy, forcing the more experienced mage to always look after her, and the one chance Imoen got to help her, she got them both into that mess.

 

Still… as she bid the dryads farewell and reunited with her friends, there was a growing, ugly side of her that could not help but thinking that her recent misfortune had been Cat's fault.

 

*~*~*

 

The mistress’ bedchambers were even more luxurious than Irenicus’, with beautiful paintings on the wall, mahogany furniture and silk bedding and curtains. The floor was also covered in top quality Calishite rugs. Before anyone could take one step inside, Imoen raised an arm.

 

“Careful. This is even more trapped than his room. He wanted to keep it just as it was. If there is something in the world he could still care about, it would be this place.” She balled her hands into fists. “This place… it’s so full of hate. She hates him, and he used to hate her for it. And I hate him, I HATE him. I would burn these chambers to the ground… but it wouldn't really matter. Not anymore.”

 

“Imoen…” Cat tried to find the words to say, but what could she possibly say to make it better? Her best friend had risked everything to get her out of prison, and for that, she went through hell. “Listen, I can’t even pretend to understand what you have been through…”

 

_ I was close, but he was not the most powerful mage I had ever encountered. Just a man; a horrible, abusive man. And I killed him as easily as I breathe. _

 

“Oh, right, about that…” Imoen began as she stepped through the door to begin to disable the traps she had just spotted.

 

The ringing of hidden bells could be heard throughout the place. Imoen froze for a moment, holding her breath. The sound stopped, and she proceeded with her task as if nothing happened.

 

“Imoen, be careful,” Jaheira called. “That was an alarm, we don't know what's going to happen next.”

 

Then, Cat remembered the two golems they had found in a room, completely inactive. She took out a wand of ice she had found in the dungeon.

 

“I think I do,” she said. “Imoen, we need to get the key to the portal as soon as possible. We’re going to have company in about five minutes. Big, clay company.”

 

After seeing the sewers golem in motion, it wasn't hard for her to calculate how long it was going to take the other two to get there.

 

“Alright, no pressure at all,” Imoen replied, full of sarcasm.

 

Still, she took her sweet time to disassemble the complex mechanisms of the deadly traps on the floor, and she hadn't even begun with the furniture. She didn't make a single mistake, however, and it soon became safe to at least set foot in the deceivingly cozy room. The former rogue took a few tentative steps, and saw other traps in the wardrobes and the chest next to the queen sized bed. She disarmed them all as she began to speak again.

 

“You know what's worst about what Irenicus did to me, Cat?” She said as she cut a string and used her picklocks to unscrew a tiny piece of an impossibly small lethal machine. “He actually wanted you. No big news, I mean, you were always the hot one, turning everyone's heads whenever you passed by. But what he noticed was that your eyes were the same green as his mistress. He even healed all your scars because ‘he preferred to keep you beautiful’. While I have to stick with reminders like this, as if I needed them!” She shouted, pausing in her task to signal the scar on her right eye.

 

“Imoen, I…”

 

“But he couldn't risk touching you, because it could negatively affect your potential,” Imoen cut off Cat, raising her tone even more. “He couldn't risk his hard work going to waste, so he was going to try with me instead. He explained all of this to me while he held me with a spell and raped me!”

 

“Imoen!”

 

The whole room shook. A porcelain vase of white roses fell from its little round table, breaking into pieces. Cat’s hands were closed into fists, and Imoen thought she saw a flash of red in her green eyes. The more veteran witch took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, a single tear escaped one of them.

 

“Imoen… what he has done to you… it’s unforgivable,” it was hard to speak and breathe at the same time, she needed to remember… in and out, in and out, slowly, calm down, deep breaths, hold it for one second, two, three…

 

The other woman stared at Cat with genuine fear in her eyes. Not that the witch could blame her. Irenicus had been turning her into… something else. Something even she felt she should be terrified of.

 

“I can't undo what he’s done,” Cat finally managed to say, “and knowing why he did those things to you… it devastates me. I can’t offer you any magic words that will make it all better, but I can at least offer you this;” she unsheathed her dagger, “revenge.”

 

Imoen stared at her friend and the dagger as if they were a goblin in a noble maiden dress.

 

“Revenge?” She scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t you see how he’s overpowered us? And now you want to go after him?”

 

“Not now,” Cat replied, feeling a smile on her face. It still felt strange to smile, but she could not stop that wild feeling. A hunt was about to begin. The rage and the bloodlust made her heart pound in her chest with excitement she knew she should not be feeling so soon, but couldn't fight back. “Not today. Today, we escape. But I will study, I will… practice. I will become more powerful, and when that happens, I will make him regret ever laying a finger on you.”

 

For a short while, Imoen was at a loss for words. Then, she let out a chuckle. Not one of the bitter ones that tore at Cat's chest, but one of her old, light-hearted ones the witch never realized how much she had missed.

 

“Wow, now you’re being creepier than this dungeon,” she joked. “But you’re right about one thing; we’re escaping today.”

 

The young woman opened the chest after emptying the rest of the room of any valuable objects. With a triumphant smile, she showed the group a small key.

 

“Told ya!” She laughed.

 

Cat smiled and sighed in relief. Imoen had gone through unbelievable pain, but she was still able to smile, to fight back. Irenicus hadn't broken her. And Cat would make sure that monster would not lay a hand on her again.

 

“Intruders! Intruders profaning the sanctity of the mistress’ room!”

 

It was the first time Cat saw golems programmed to feel, or at least show, rage. She would have found it fascinating, were her and her companions’ lives not in immediate danger.

 

“Imoen, you still got any magic missiles left?”

 

The woman nodded as she approached her friend. Jaheira was casting a doom spell on the golems while Minsc threw himself right at them, like he usually did.

 

“Alright, let’s hit them with everything we’ve got!”

 

With Imoen's magic missiles, the decrease in their defenses caused by Jaheira's spell, and the warrior druid and Minsc's attacks, they were able to take one of the creatures down. Cat, on the meantime, focused on the other. She had her wand of frost in her hand.

 

“Hey, you beast! You seem to have an attitude problem, let me cool you off!” She shouted as she shot a freezing ray at the golem.

 

The creature looked strange in its frozen state. Like a diamond golem. Cat chuckled at the thought. Diamonds were hard… but extremely fragile. With a simple hit with the hilt of her dagger, the frozen golem crumbled to pieces.

 

“Next stop, the portal, everyone,” she announced as she led the way.

 

“Have you heard that, Boo?” Minsc told his hamster as he cradled it in his enormous hands. “We’re getting out of this place of evil, and then we shall kick that Irenicus’ butt!”

 

The tiny rodent squealed happily in response.

 

* * *

 

“So, you’re saying Irenicus got you, too?” Cat asked, calm as the ocean on a sunny summer day at the Sword Coast.

 

“Well, true, I am a bounty hunter, you see, and it looks like I have found myself in the wrong lair to search for treasure,” the man called Yoshimo replied, swallowing as he felt the tip of Cat's dagger at his throat.

 

“And why are you so…” she was about to say “whole”, but if he was indeed not to be trusted, it was best not to show weakness in front of him. “Uninjured?”

 

“Well, I was only captured recently, and there was a quarrel nearby that allowed me to make my escape,” the bounty hunter explained, trying his hardest not to shake. “And judging from the looks of it, I must guess our captor was too busy with the lot of you to do much harm to me.”

 

Cat paused to think. His version coincided with Imoen's; someone had broken into the dungeons and there was a fight. Perhaps he was telling the truth, after all. Besides, one could not have too many allies in places like those, even if she didn't trust them. She put the dagger away and sheathed it, and Yoshimo breathed again.

 

“Alright, you may come with us. Can you tell us anything of interest about this level?”

 

Yoshimo explained there was a room with portals that summoned mephits, which they quickly took care of, and then a heavily trapped room not far from their position, but he could hear the wind blowing from a passage just east of it. At the west wall of said room, there were the mechanisms that made the traps work. With the right keys, he would surely be able to disable them so the group could walk around safely. Luckily, they had already found said keys around the former level of the dungeon. The man also warned them of a rather unpleasant torture room they had to go through in order to get to the room with the traps, and to their freedom. Cat felt that void again, but she locked eyes with the rest of the group, and they all nodded. They had encountered all sorts of horrors in that place; surely they could take one more nightmare if it meant escaping. Was it escape she yearned for? Was that the feeling she no longer felt in her chest?

 

While Cat wondered about her odd loss, Jaheira thanked Yoshimo for the information and warned him that they would not leave the place until they found her husband, who was not at the former level of the dungeon.

 

She didn't have to wait too long for it.

 

“K-Khalid?”

 

Jaheira froze at the sight of the corpse on the operating table. It had been cut open, the skin of its torso held to the table with pins, with its innards spread out, some of them cut in half to show what was hidden inside. The skin of its left arm had been completely peeled off, the muscles and tendons separated and pulled apart to show the bone. Its eyes and teeth had been removed. One eye laid next to the corpse; it had been cut in a quarter for its inner layers to be shown. The only color left in the body was the fiery red of the hair. There was no telling as to how long he had been dead.

 

But it couldn't be. It was wrong. There were no stab wounds. Cat held her forehead against her hand. Her head burned. Meanwhile, Jaheira fell to her knees.

 

“No… This is an illusion… a dream… a bad dream…”

 

Cat felt her hands beginning to tremble. She took a deep breath.

 

“Where are the mirrors… the switches to pull to show where he is hidden… Khalid…”

 

Jaheira raged, claiming she would have the heart of whoever did it, wailing his long-life partner’s death, and prayed for his soul to be returned to Silvanus. Minsc innocently asked if he could be resurrected, but the body had already began its decay, and it had been desecrated long past that point. Everyone except for Cat tried to comfort the half-elf for her loss, but she rejected them aggressively. The witch stood a few steps back, dizzy, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. It couldn't be Khalid. It was wrong. Cat felt needles behind her eyes, along her hair line, inside her temples, from ear to ear in all of her skull. She covered her face with her hands, trying to make it stop.

 

Imoen turned out to have the answer for what Cat couldn't understand.

 

“Jaheira… I want to say how sorry I am about Khalid… I… know this is hard…”

 

“No, you do not know,” Jaheira retorted. “This is not the time for this conversation, child.”

 

“Stop calling me child,” the younger woman shot back. “I am as old as Cat, and besides, I can tell you that Khalid did not suffer.”

 

The warrior druid frowned, but doubt could be seen in her eyes.

 

“What are you babbling about, Imoen? I am not in the mood.”

 

“I’m not babbling! I saw him do this!” Imoen exclaimed. “Khalid was dead when our captor started… doing those things to him!”

 

So he repaired his wounds. That explained it. It would allow him to show Imoen how people were on the inside, what they turned into after death… Cat uncovered her face, suppressing a whimper, and tried to stand up straight. Her head was going to kill her.

 

“You saw this? You watched as it was done?” Jaheira asked in shock.

 

“He… he showed me. He cut and… and showed me. He forced my eyes open and made me look as he…”

 

“Stop,” an anguished Jaheira interrupted Imoen. “I don’t want to hear this.”

 

“He said I should see, so I would understand, but I don’t know what he wanted!” Imoen began to sound desperate. “He would cut and say ‘Do you see?’ Cut and say ‘Do you see’?”

 

“Be quiet, child! No more!” Jaheira screamed.

 

The flashes began again. Cat cradled her head with her hands, trying to remember to take deep, slow breaths.

 

“What about you, Bhaalspawn?” Jaheira defied her. “Does your silver tongue have no words of comfort for my pain?”

 

_ Cat woke up in a cold, metal surface. The operation room. She looked around, eyes wide with fear, searching for her torturer and waiting to be cut open once more. But she was fully dressed and had no shackles, no restraints, nothing that could keep her from moving and escaping. She sat up with some difficulty; her body still hurt from the last time her torturer had visited her in her cell. _

 

“Or perhaps you don’t care? It would be no surprise for me, knowing what I know about you!”

 

“Jaheira!” Imoen tried to stop the woman.

 

_ She looked around. The side table that used to contain knives, scalpels, clamps and other instruments of pain now held only one item. One that Cat had long dreamed of finding. The Soultaker Dagger. _

 

“You poison your enemies and you use your friends as it suits you best! I know what you said to Khalid in Bridgefort!”

 

_ And there, in the other side of the room, was the one who had caused her so much suffering. The one who imprisoned an innocent woman’s soul in the dagger and made the witch pay the price. He had his ugly head buried deep in a book, sitting at a table, likely doing research for more of his twisted experiments. Cat stood up and took the dagger, tiptoeing, barefeet, in his direction, feeling more determination than ever in her life. Even more than when she faced her brother back at the underground temple of Bhaal. From inside the weapon, he heard Skie's voice. _

 

_ “Do it, Cat! Release me!” _

 

“I bet you couldn’t stand owing him your life, now could you, you monster?”

 

_ From the back, she couldn’t reach his heart, if he even had one, but there were other organs she could target. The knowledge on the use of daggers he forced into her head would be his doom. A flash of the Soultaker and the mage cried in pain, holding his side with a hand. She knew she had hit a kidney. Before he could defend himself, she stabbed him, again and again, claiming his heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, liver, twisting the edge where she had learned it would hurt the most. His cries were the sweetest sound she had ever been graced to hear… and then the illusion faded and there was only Khalid, falling to the floor, dying. _

 

“He saved you when you were but a newborn! He saved you from your own wretched mother when he should have left you in the temple to rot!”

 

_ “No, no, Khalid,” Cat whispered, dropping the dagger to the floor. It turned out to be a simple dagger of bone. She heard clapping, and looked up. _

 

_ “Excellent, Bhaalspawn. You have exceeded all my expectations,” the mage congratulated her, though there was no joy in his voice, just the cold mechanical monotone of an investigator conducting his research. “Rage fuels your power like nothing else does.” _

 

_ Cat took back the dagger and raised to her feet. She ran to that monster of a man with a despaired roar. She felt no affection for Khalid, and hated the fact that she owed him her life… but the choice to kill him or let him live was hers, and it had been taken from her. As she was about to hit, she felt a pang of pain in her chest… she was missing something essential to her very being, something related to the rage, to that mage’s transgressions… Just as the dagger was about to hit his eye, it stopped in its tracks as Cat fell in the mage’s hold person spell. _

 

_ “Now, you wouldn’t think it would be that easy to bring  _ me  _ down, would you?” He taunted her as he cast another spell on her. Everything faded to black… _

 

_ It was then. After that, she tried to rebel, to do whatever it took to impede him from gaining what he was after. She didn't care anymore for surviving; she would rather end her own life than see her divine gift corrupted like that. The more she thought of it, the bigger the void in her chest grew; the greater her sorrow and white hot  _ rage _ for what she had lost was. So she tried to starve herself. But again, she failed. He did not let her die, he connected tubes to her nose that fed her a fluid that kept her from dying. So she was forced to fight back, to let the rage and the hate take control and grow and grow and grow and grow… _

 

“I’m sure you feel relieved that you don’t have to repay his debt anymore! I’m certain you would have killed him instead of Irenicus had you been given the chance!”

 

She had never jumped liked that. She was not sure humans were supposed to be able to leap just like she did. All she knew was red; the blood red rage invading everything around her. Her hands were around Jaheira’s neck, in a grip the half-elf could not get rid of despite her superior strength. Her face went paler and paler as Cat's vampiric touch slowly drained her life.

 

“Now, I know you don’t like me, and I don’t like you either,” Cat could barely recognize the raspy growl that was her voice right then, “but I will not let you make any more accusations or threats, or I will change my mind about keeping all of us alive so we can make it out of this place. Is it clear?”

 

With her eyes wide and bloodshot, Jaheira made a pathetic attempt at nodding. With a sweet smile, Cat let her go. The mark of her hands on the half-elf's neck made her want to laugh.

 

“Good. Now let's get out of here.”

 

“Cat…” Imoen shook her head, her eyes bright with tears. “What has he done to you?”

 

The witch turned, the sweetness on her smile replaced by madness.

 

“Nothing I won't do to him too, a hundred times worse.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is a fragment from Piggy by Nine Inch Nails. You're going to see a lot of them over here, I think.
> 
> Well, that was a long one! I hope you enjoyed it. I hated to do that to Imoen, but upon replaying the game, one of the dryads literally says to her "he has touched you too, has he not?" and I RAGED. Things will get better for her and Cat in the end, though the journey will be a hard one. I hope you decide to join them, and tell me your thoughts on what I am attempting right now. I am really unsure of the quality of this part, so anything would help.


	3. Trial and error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat and her companions finally make it out of Irenicus' lair... only for him and Imoen to be abducted by the Cowled Wizards. Cat is offered unexpected, and very suspicious, help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new chapter! I'll make this intro quick because I'm feeling like SHIT and I'd much rather not throw up on my precious keyboard. So all I can say is: enjoy!

 

_Welcome to the jungle, we've got fun and games_

_We got everything you want, honey, we know the names_

_We are the people that can find whatever you may need_

_If you got the money, honey, we got your disease_

_In the jungle, welcome to the jungle_

_Watch it bring you to your_

_Shun n-n-n-n-n-n knees, knees_

_I wanna watch you bleed_

* * *

 

The corpses of the mysterious thieves who had been fighting the vampire the group aided to slay, and who apparently came after Irenicus, littered the way out of the hellish dungeon that had been Cat's prison during… how long? She could not tell anymore. Time had ceased to exist long ago for her. The only thing she knew was that the void in her heart kept twisting, trying to remind her… what was so important that she had forgotten? What had Irenicus erased from her mind?

 

As they raced up the stairs, they heard the sound of a fight from the outside. Then, a loud explosion that made the whole place tremble. Jaheira lost her balance and almost fell down the stairs, but Minsc held her arm and pulled so she'd stand back up. She quietly thanked him and kept climbing up. They could all see the light at the end of the literal tunnel… and hear the turmoil of the battle, too. The cries of the dying filled Cat’s ears, and she picked up the pace. She wanted, she _had_ to be there.

 

When sunlight hit her face, the witch had to cover her eyes. She had forgotten how bright it was. After blinking a few times and tearing up a bit, she grew accustomed to the increased clarity and could finally see. She and her companions stood at the edge of a crater; there was rattle and dead thieves everywhere. At the other side of it stood the man who had taken so much from them. The one who had tortured Cat, took thoughts and feelings from her mind and planted venomous rage in their place.

 

“Irenicus!” One of the surviving thieves called. “You are going to regret betraying us!”

 

The mage did not bother to utter a word. With a flick of his wrist, a lightning bolt bounced from one thief to another, instantly killing them all. Cat felt the back of her hair standing. That spell was extremely difficult to direct, yet he had done it without merely a thought. That mage would not be easily defeated… if he ever could. Still, she unsheathed her dagger and got ready for the fight. That was when he glanced in her direction. His eyes were as cold and dead as always.

 

“Ah, so you have escaped,” he casually commented, as if it didn't bother him at all. “You are more resourceful than I thought.”

 

Cat was about to reply when Imoen stepped in front of her, glaring at Irenicus.

 

“You will pay for the torture you’ve made us suffer!” She bellowed, getting a spell ready. Hadn't she run out of them already?

 

Irenicus arched an eyebrow so thin it was barely visible to the naked eye.

 

“Torture? You understand nothing. I am merely bringing out your full potential.”

 

“We want nothing from you!” Imoen cried out as she released what were probably her last magic missiles.

 

The man frowned in mild discomfort, but other than that, he did not seem too affected by Imoen's attack. On the other hand, Cat still had her wand of lightning. As she began to raise it, several circles of teleportation opened around the crater. Men in black tunics with long cowls that hid their faces came out.

 

“Halt!” One of them commanded. “Illegal magic activity has been performed in these place. Under the authority of the Cowled Wizards, the use of arcane magic without a license is punished with death!”

 

“Fools,” Irenicus drawled. “Do you really believe you can stop me?”

 

The man focused his own magic and recited some words as the so called Cowled Wizards casted protection spells on themselves. However, Irenicus’ magic was stronger. The lot of them turned to stone, and with a snap of his fingers, they crumbled down into dust. More mages teleported to the battlefield, only to meet the same fate. The next group of mages were a lot wearier about attacking the man who had slayed so many of them in the blink of an eye.

 

“Enough! You will… cease your spellcasting and come with us!” One of them managed to speak, trembling like a leaf. “Even if you kill us, our numbers are many. We will overwhelm you!”

 

Irenicus narrowed his eyes.

 

“You bore me, mageling. You may take me in, but you WILL take the girl as well!” He said, pointing at Imoen.

 

“What?” She gasped. “No! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

 

“You have been involved in illegal use of magic,” another of the mages accused Imoen. “You will come with us!”

 

“I’m not going with him! I’m not!” Imoen shouted as she began to back away.

 

Cat stepped in front of the woman, wielding her wand menacingly at the wizards. If they wanted Imoen, they would have to go through her… or behind her. A teleportation circle opened behind Imoen's back, and one of the cowled wizards grabbed her arm. Imoen turned to Cat, desperate.

 

“Help me! Please!”

 

“IMOEN!”

 

Cat dropped the wand and ran faster than she had in her whole life, one single goal in her life; save Imoen, protect her from harm. She extended her hand for her friend to pick, and the former rogue reached out to her. Cat felt her fingertips and smiled at her in reassurance, reaching out to hold her hand… and then it disappeared through the portal, which vanished in a flash of bluish light. Behind her, other teleportation circles opened, and the remaining mages passed through them. Cat tripped and fell to her knees. She did not get up.

 

“Who were those evil men who kidnapped Imoen? We must find them straight away!” Minsc urged the group, still shocked about everything he had just witnessed.

 

_As soon as Imoen arrived at the keep, Cat worked into making her a friend. She was the first child the girl had met in a place full of elderly ones, so she was desperate to have a partner in crime for her pranks. With prestidigitation, she dyed her hair pink and gave her flowers, and in turn, Imoen gave her her undying friendship and loyalty._

 

Jaheira looked around, narrowing her eyes.

 

“I recognize this place. We are in Athkatla. Khalid and I were… I was here before.”

 

_When she had to leave Candlekeep, Imoen sneaked out to go with her. She refused to leave Cat to her own devices. It was then that she understood; she had tricked the girl into becoming her friend, and now she was her responsibility. She left the safety of Candlekeep for her sake, so it was her duty to take care of her and protect her._

 

“I shall help you find your friend,” Yoshimo said with a solemn expression. “Though your knowledge about the city, Jaheira, might be of great value.”

 

 _When Caelar Argent hurt Imoen with a poison aimed at Cat, she became blind with rage… but also devastated. She had failed the very person she had sworn to protect. And then, Irenicus took her. All of it after_ she _risked everything and lost a chance at a peaceful life in Baldur's Gate to help her escape prison._

 

“Right now there is something that worries me more… why would Irenicus want to take Imoen, when it’s Cat and her divine heritage he’s so obviously interested in?”

 

 _And now, after they_ finally _walked away from that nightmare… he snatched her off right under her nose. She failed her. Again._

 

“Perhaps our half-goddess could give us a clue?” Yoshimo asked, walking towards Cat. “I understand your worry, but we must work together if we want to—”

 

“Go away.”

 

Cat looked up at the faces around her. People who wanted nothing to do with her, someone whose real intentions she ignored… No one she could trust. The one person out of all of them that she trusted was gone. And it was her fault. Rage scratched at her mind again. She took a few deep breaths… but it was for naught. She trusted no one. She didn't want those people, she didn't _need_ those people around.

 

“Cat? Are you—?”

 

“I said GO. AWAY.”

 

“We cannot become separated now!” Jaheira complained. “We won't find Imoen if—”

 

“I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU NEAR ME! GO NOW, GO, GO, GO!” The witch screamed.

 

Jaheira paused for a second, then sighed.

 

“I guess I can do nothing to change your mind. If you do, you can find me at the Harpers’ headquarters in this city, at the docks.”

 

_As if I would trust a Harper._

 

“I believe this belongs to you,” Minsc said, handing Cat the Sword of Chaos. “It's a good sword. If you ever need a strong arm to wield it, you can trust Minsc and Boo.”

 

_I can barely trust you to remember to keep breathing without your hamster._

 

“I guess you don’t want me around, either?” Yoshimo asked. “It’s not advisable, we are in a foreign and dangerous place.”

 

“I already told you; I don't trust you. Now go.”

 

The man appeared troubled. He really didn't look forward to leave Cat the fuck alone.

 

“As you wish, but don’t hesitate to contact me if you change your mind.”

 

That was how Cat found herself alone in a strange place, with a killer headache and continuous bouts of barely controllable rage. She needed a place to go. And soon. As she asked for directions, people shot her pitiful looks. She probably looked pathetic. Well, Hells, she _felt_ pathetic. No thought, no brilliant idea came to her mind as she stumbled towards the Mithrest Inn, the closest to her current location. Which turned out to be the most luxurious one in the city. Just what she needed; to be surrounded by stuck up fools. She asked for the heaviest meal they had available and two bottles of Iriaeboran ale and Alurlyath wine, rented a royal suite and asked to have everything delivered in there. She took a sit in one of the comfy armchairs as she waited for the service to bring her her food and drinks. It was the softest thing in the world, or at least that was what it felt like after… how long again was it? of sleeping on a dirty cell floor.

 

A maid brought her a tray with the bottles she had requested, a mug for the ale, a glass for the wine, and a big plate of something she had never tried before; wide, flat, long yellow strings that were elaborated with flour and eggs and then boiled, accompanied by chopped carrots, mushrooms, broccoli, and zucchini. Cat asked for the current date, and after the maid replied with a strange look in her face, she requested to be left alone for the night. Once the service left, she proceeded to devour her meal. It was the most delicious she had ever tried. That whole pasta invention needed to become a thing in the realms. Not to mention the inevitable comparison with the meagre dried meat and lettuce she had at Irenicus’ dungeon, the fasting the went through, and the serum that the mage used to keep her alive afterwards. She washed down her meal with some glasses of wine. It was a good one. Once the food ran out, drinking it along with the ale, glass after mug after another glass after another mug, she could almost forgot that it had been five months.

 

Five months. Five entire months of torment, of being cut open with  a scalpel, of having cold, dead hands delving into her brain, stripping her off the parts they did not like and replacing them with all consuming rage. Tearing off thoughts, memories, ideas… she felt her hands beginning to tremble, and decided to finish the bottles before she trashed the whole place. So she drank it all, and then order another pair of bottles. She wondered if she could, indeed, forget everything if she got drunk enough, so she decided to give it a try. The end result was, once again, rage. She set the bed on fire, blew the wardrobe to smithereens and dragged the armchairs to the pretty balcony of the suite, and somehow managed to throw them down, all the while screaming like a berserker. Needless to say, she was almost literally kicked out of the inn. So now she was drunk and alone, in a city she didn't know, with no place to stay. She threw up the pasta in the entrance in revenge. It only took her a couple more steps to pass out from exhaustion and alcohol abuse.

 

* * *

 

The witch woke up with what was definitely the worst hangover of her entire life. However, she wasn't in a prison cell like she had expected. She was tucked in a small bed, her boots and backpack were nearby. She wasn't wearing her girdle, so she was unarmed. Upon a quick inspection, she found it on a nearby table.

 

“Ya came to! A very good mornin’ t’ th’ sleepin’ beauty! Well… g’night, actually.”

 

Cat jumped from the bed at top speed, her fingertips already glowing red with magic missiles. At least, she had had enough common sense to memorize her spells before destroying her suite. The voice that greeted her belonged to a young man in leather armor who stood in front of the door, and who quickly raised his hands when he saw her about to attack.

 

“Whoa, calm down! I be here t’ help ya!”

 

“And who could you be? Cat snarled. “By the way, I hope you didn't do anything you shouldn't while I was asleep, because a simple divination spell can reveal it, and trust me, you’re going to miss whatever it is you have between your legs.”

 

“I did nothin’ but carryin’ ya t’ me home before th’ guards shoved ya into a cell, I swear!” The man claimed. “You can divine all ya want, I won't take advantage of an unconscious lady. Me name be Gaelan Bayle.”

 

 _I’m no lady,_ Cat thought.

 

“I’ll go straight to the point, what do you want from me?” She asked instead. “I don't believe for a second you rescued me out of the goodness of your heart.”

 

The man called Gaelan Bayle cackled with laughter.

 

“Well, o’ course, ya be a smart girl,” he chuckled. “Alright, I’ll tell ya. I happen t’ know quite a bit of what happens in this city, and I happen t’ know that your friend… what was her name? Imoen, yeah. She's been captured by the Cowled Wizards.”

 

Cat practically jumped at him at the mention of her friend's name.

 

“Where have they taken her? Is she okay?”

 

Gaelan raised his arms again, just in case Cat decided to hit him with the magic missiles that still glowed in her fingers. Like it would make a difference.

 

“Sorry, I dunno. Those guys be th’ authority ‘ere in Athkatla, and they be rather… secretive with 'em issues.”

 

“Then what good are you to me?”

 

“I can link ye to a group that knows. Or can be findin’ out,” he probably saw the interest in Cat's features, and felt daring enough to get closer to her and speak in a lower tone. “They can even affect the rescue of th’ lass, to boot.”

 

“And who would that group be?” Cat asked, finally breaking the spell… but not lowering her guard for anything.

 

“I cannot tell, but they be willin’ t’ help, they be,” the man assured her. “And havin’ th’ power t’ challenge the Cowled Wizards.”

 

“I see… and how much would such assistance cost me?” Cat shot a quick smile at Gaelan. If he thought she would fall for a ruse, he would sorely regret it.

 

“It may seem costly… but think of th’ risk of crossing them Cowled Wizards,” he quickly replied. “Twenty thousand gold pieces be the price.”

 

Cat went pale. That was ten times the amount she had been able to collect at Irenicus’ dungeon, and even if she sold everything of value she still possessed, she didn't think she’d be able to make such an amount. Not to mention that she would need actual allies, and the money it would cost to arm them… and to prepare herself for the fight with Irenicus.

 

“Is there no way to lower the amount?” She asked.

 

Gaelan shook his head.

 

“The price be what it be, and it be final. Ye be an adventurer, and there’s plenty of profit to make in a city like this,” he smirked. “Ye should have no problem t’ make th’ money. Just bring it to me once ye have it, and I be gettin’ ya in contact with my group.”

 

Cat narrowed her eyes.

 

“I really hope your offer is worth the price, Gaelan. For your own sake.”

 

“Ye not be regrettin’ it, milady,” Gaelan replied with his annoying smile as Cat showed herself out, “Oh, if ye pass by the Copper Coronet, tell Lehtinan I said hi! It’s just north o’ here!”

 

_The Copper Coronet, huh?_

 

Once outside, she began to walk the streets in the direction Gaelan gave her, purposeful. She was alone in a strange place, but now she had somewhere to begin. However, before she got to the door, a woman crossed her way, stopping her from going any further. She hid her features under a cowl, but Cat could see her unnaturally pale hands. She mentally readied herself to fight. Perhaps it would suffice with her wand of lightning… though that would probably attract the Cowled Wizards. But perhaps she could talk them into taking her where Imoen was.

 

“Hello, friend,” a melodic voice, made to be pleasant to any ear… She had seen such things before. “May I have a word with you, far from prying ears? I wish to offer good business for you.”

 

“Business? Like taking me to a dark alley and suck my blood dry?” Cat chuckled.

 

The vampire shot her a predatory smile.

 

“Nothing further from the truth. Your heart is so much more valuable to me while still beating,” she assured. “My name is Valen. I have an offer for you.”

 

How helpful everybody was in Athkatla. Cat would have shed a tear if she actually trusted a single word from either Valen or Gaelan.

 

“And what would that be?” She asked, judging it best to play the fool.

 

“Unfortunately, that is not for me to say,” Valen replied. “You see, your presence in this city has not gone entirely unnoticed. Those who claim your trust are also spying on you. My mistress offers you a solution for your… privacy problem, as well as for others you may have encountered.”

 

 _Let me guess, the problem is called Irenicus,_ Cat thought. She did not need a thief's eye to see the trap. She had fought a vampire back at her dungeon, who was in turn fighting some mysterious thieves who mentioned a guild war. And now a thief and a vampire offered the help she so desperately needed, for a price. She would hear out Valen’s mistress’ offer to avoid having vampires literally behind her neck, but she would trust no one.

 

“You may find my mistress at the graveyard district, southeast of the city, at night. If you find her worthy of your trust, visit her and she will give you the details.”

 

Then, just as she appeared, Valen just vanished into a side alley. Cat was sure it was some sort of vampire trick. She casted a glance at the Copper Coronet… it would surely still be there when she was done with speaking to Valen’s mistress. She made her way southeast. The graveyard district was by far one of the most quaint places she had set foot in; all sorts of graves filled the greenery between the cobblestone paths. There were mere holes dug in the ground, with a single, tiny tombstone, some had crosses, some had epitaphs, some lacked even the deceased’s name. And then there were actual mausoleums, made from marble and chryselephantine, some even with several floors or levels. But those who dwelled inside them were dead all the same. Such thoughts brought a flash of memory to Cat, a dream, perhaps; she was sitting in a throne, a throne of blood, everyone bowed before her and worshipped her, for everyone and everything belonged to her…

 

Cat blinked. She had just remembered something, an idea, a _plan_ Irenicus had tried to erase from her mind. But, as himself had taught her when he showed her Gorion's cruel attempt at exorcizing her taint, nothing was ever really forgotten. She remembered ascension. She was to become the goddess of death. She had recovered a stolen idea; she just needed to remember. Not only that; the dream was the first Bhaal had used to lure her into becoming his puppet, but it was different; _felt_ different. Like… a prophecy.

 

Then, Cat remembered the books she had been able to snatch from Candlekeep's library, those about Alaundo's prophecies. And it became clear to her.

 

She was the chosen one. The one destined to sit on the Throne of Blood.

 

The discovery made her want to throw her hands in the air and laugh until she ran out of air. She was not lost anymore, and she had recovered her aim, her purpose. But she refrained from any display of emotion; Valen’s mistress could not be far, and she was undoubtedly connected to Irenicus, her most immediate problem. With the confidence that she could recover what the monster had taken from her, she searched for the vampire leader. It did not take her long; she awaited casually sitting on a gravestone. She did not hide her face. She was as pale as Valen, had short black hair, striking crimson eyes, and really, _really_ sharp fangs.

 

“You have come. Welcome. I am Bodhi.”

 

“Pleased to meet you and all that crap. Could we please get to the point? It’s rather cold here at night,” Cat replied, feeling bolder now that she had recovered her purpose.

 

Bodhi chuckled. Like Valen, her voice was sweet, and her laugh sounded like the chirp of a bird. Of course, Cat would not let that deceive her or forget the sort of creature she was dealing with.

 

“So straightforward. I like you. You see, those who claim will help you are no other than the infamous Shadow Thieves,” Bodhi explained.

 

_Right, and you are an angelical deva coming to guide my way._

 

“They wield the power in this city,” Bodhi spat, hatred evident in her tone. “But not anymore. I shall strike them down.”

 

“And you want my help in doing so,” Cat said, already aware of where the conversation was heading.

 

“In exchange, I can help you find what you are looking for,” Bodhi answered, “and for a lower price than the Shadow Thieves; just fifteen thousand gold pieces. What do you say?”

 

_That it would seem that you bloodsuckers have been spying on me just as much as the thieves._

 

“It will take me some time to collect the money,” Cat said, matching Bodhi’s scheming smile. “Can I trust that you will wait until then?”

 

The vampire nodded.

 

“Good. But do not tarry too much,” she said in barely a whisper. “There is a war coming. Make sure to be on the winning side when it explodes.”

 

_Oh, I will be._

* * *

The Copper Coronet was a tavern and inn which occupied a large portion of the slums of Athkatla, but just like the rest of buildings in the districts, it was half-ruined. Woodworms had feasted on some sections of the wooden floor, so Cat had to watch her step. The smell wasn't much better than outside, either; sweat, piss and blood. It was lovely. And it was populated by the scum of the city, the lowest of the lowest. Everyone carried weapons of some sort, some rested their heads on the table, drooling, with dozens of empty mugs of ale around. Others sang songs that would make many a sailor gasp and flee. A bunch threatened one another, bellowing insults from opposite extremes of the tavern. Almost everyone spat on the floor, and from time to time, Cat saw a tooth or two hitting the ground as well. Yes, that would be the perfect place.

 

As she made her way to the bar so she could ask for a room, a small group of drunkards gathered in a round table sneered and whistled at her. She tried to swallow the hot white rage.

 

_Now’s not the time. It’s three against one. Ignore them._

 

One of the three, probably emboldened by the liquor, slapped her ass before she could get out of their reach.

 

_Okay, that was it._

 

In a split second, Cat's dagger was pressed against the offender’s neck. It became harder to breathe, and the only thought that occupied the witch's mind was to take the life out of that vermin’s porcine eyes. He swallowed, she let the edge scrap his skin, drawing a tiny drop of blood, and he choked back a sob. That cowardly scum wasn't even worth the effort.

 

“Do that again and I will feed your hands to the rats.”

 

With that, she began to leave, convinced that she had intimidated him enough to not try anything again. Had he been alone, that would have undoubtedly been the case, but with his two friends watching and his life no longer in her hands, the man felt compelled to bother her further. Why was most men’s masculinity such a fragile thing, that they needed to constantly prove its existence and rub it in one another's faces like that?

 

“So, the little bitch thinks she’s some tough lady? Well come back here and prove it!”

 

Rage.

 

_Ugh, Cat, get a hold of yourself, why should you even care about that moron?_

 

“Hey, Surly, open the pit! I’ll show that wench who’s boss in here!”

 

One of the three drunkards open a barred door that led to a tiny circular arena. There were bloodstains everywhere inside. The man who insulted Cat drew his sword and got inside. The other two grabbed Cat's arms and pushed her in with him, despite her protests and threats to cut off body parts. Then, they closed the door, and she was trapped in the pit with that disgusting swine. Suddenly, the mood in the whole tavern changed; everyone started to cheer, hurl insults or throw mugs against the jail that held the pit. It was kill or be killed, it seemed. Cat knew well which she preferred. With her back to the locked door, she released the spell that came to her mind in the moment the two thugs grabbed her. The fireball exploded just mere inches from herself, and she felt the heat of the flames wash over her. Though hurt, her opponent was still in proper shape for fighting thanks to his armor. That would quickly change.

 

As he walked closer to her –the idiot didn't even have the common sense to make a quick attack to prevent her from using her spells–, she casted fear on him, and as soon as he made eye contact with the witch, he fled in the opposite direction. Cat stayed still, her scroll in her hand, waiting for him to get to the right position. He ran as far from her as the circular pit would allow, and she read her scroll. Another fireball scorched him, and she delighted in his screams of agony as the heat from the flames made her sweat. The guy was tough, but the fear spell was still in effect, so it was her chance to attack. She had no more offensive spells left, so she’d have to turn to her throwing daggers. He didn't stop moving, frightened to death as he was, so it was difficult to hit him, but when her fear spell wore off, many of her tiny weapons had found their way through his burned armor and into his flesh. He bled profusely, but he didn't look ready to give up.

 

 _Kill or be killed,_ Cat thought with excitement as she used her half-divine abilities to ensorcel him with fear once more.

 

The woman repeated the process of throwing daggers at her terrified opponent until she ran out of them. When that happened, she pulled the Grave Binder she took from Irenicus’ cambion and began an honestly frustrating and boring persecution. However, she knew it was safer to face the man while on that estate; he was physically stronger than her and she had only one vampiric touch as a means of healing herself, so she would need to try that way. She was quicker than him, and the pit wasn't especially big, so it wasn't too hard to corner him and hit a few arteries as he tried to rid himself of the nightmare he probably saw instead of her. Eventually, though, the effect the woman had on the brawler ran out, and he turned to her with his short sword, roaring as he swung it at her, leaving a deep gash from her chest to her abdomen. The movement drew more blood from him, however; it was easy to tell he was at his limit. As he charged again, Cat dodged to her right and lunged herself at the man, catching him by surprise and making him lose balance so they both fell to the ground. Before he could sit up to search for his sword, she latched her hands at his neck and began to drain him of his energy, feeling his strength flowing through her veins and healing her wounds. With whatever force he still held, the man grabbed Cat's hands and yanked them from his neck. He made the mistake of releasing her right one to reach for his sword. One of the “limitations” Irenicus “corrected” in Cat was her left-handedness. Now, she was ambidextrous. In a flash, her dagger was at his throat, drinking from the cut aorta as life poured out of him in a shower of red. She used to live for this. SHE ruled murder, not the other way around. No matter what her father, Irenicus or any other tried to convince her of. The gates of the pit opened for her, and after looting the corpse, she emerged, victorious, as the crowded cheered for “the Killer Witch”. After eating an outrageous pork roast full of fleas she had to keep shooing away and trying all of the available ales, she stumbled into her merchant chambers and enjoyed a good night rest, free of nightmares or the intrusion of Irenicus or Bhaal, for the first time in months.

 

* * *

The morning after, she recalled everything that transpired during the night. Aside from the cheers of most of the tavern and the dry replies of the owner to address his employee when she asked for service, she paid close attention to the talks taking place. Bernard, the man who actually served in lieu of the brooding Lehtinan –who barely even acknowledged his association with Gaelan Bayle–, had kindly answered her questions about the Shadow Thieves. They tended to keep to themselves, from what she learned, and if she was interested in contacting them, a thug from the docks called Renal Bloodscalp was her man. She also asked about the Cowled Wizards and where they took their prisoners, but Bernard, like everyone else, had no idea about it. He claimed that perhaps the Harpers would know, but Cat chose to discard that option, at least for the time being. She knew they would be watching her, much like the Shadow Thieves and Bodhi's vampires, and she had no interest in seeing Jaheira's face anytime soon. But then, she remembered a chat with a drunkard that sparked her interest; the Copper Coronet held special entertainment on the back of the building, and accessing it was as easy as asking Lehtinan nicely. There were prostitutes of every gender, and also bigger fighting pits where fearless gladiators risked their lives fighting wild and dangerous beasts. Now _there_ was something of interest. Especially when the drunkard’s friend tried to shush him, saying that he was speaking too much and that Lehtinan was going to notice. Before collapsing in her bed, Cat had prepared all the relevant spells. She washed herself, got dressed, took her backpack and her weapons, and left the room.

 

After a quick visual scan, she found the people who could help her in that particular matter. It turned out that Minsc was also staying in that inn, but he had kept a respectful distance from Cat. There was also a priest of Helm, glaring at the celebrating patrons with a look of superiority and self-importance. Cat disliked him as soon as she laid eyes on him, but decided to swallow her feelings for the moment; he would be useful as well. A young mage, more or less her age, but air-headed enough to give away her noble origins, paced around, asking for help to anyone who cared to listen. No one did. She had also noticed a heavily armed dwarf, who clung to his ale as if his life depended on it, and shot suspicious looks at everyone with his little mean eyes. That one, Cat liked, but speaking to him would have to wait. She had an investigation to carry out first. With her most radiant smile _–take that, Irenicus, you could not take this from me–_ she approached Lehtinan, who eyed her warily. After telling him she was interested in the backward entertainment, he grunted in approval and instructed her to tell the guards that she had been allowed in by him.

 

First, she decided to see what the “good company” was truly about. That section was managed by a madam called Nin. Cat requested the most skilled and beautiful of her workers, whether a man or a woman. After paying the madam, Nin introduced her to Shantir, a scantily clad Chultan beauty with long, thick corn braids along her scalp; full, bright red lips curved in a sly smile not unlike Cat was used to display. Her see-through dress allowed Cat to see the golden piercings on her nipples. She smiled at the woman and followed her into her room. It seemed that Nin took good care of her workers, assigning them individual rooms with big baths and all sorts of hygienic articles, as well as expensive perfume and silk linens. It was plain to see Lehtinan made good money from that business. Shantir undid a golden clasp at the back of her neck, and her dress fell off to her rounded hips. She slid out of it with an elegance that Cat envied.

 

“What would you like me to do, mistress?” The woman asked.

 

“First of all, don’t call me 'mistress’,” Cat said with a cordial smile.

 

“Killer Witch, then?”

 

That actually made Cat laugh.

 

“News fly, I see.”

 

“People tend to babble a lot once they are… satiated. Especially men,” Shantir explained with a mischievous grin. “And my ears are ever open.”

 

That was good to know.

 

“Well, Shantir, for now I would just like to sit down and chat. You can put your clothes back on if you wish, or keep them off, whatever you feel most comfortable with. I can undress as well if you’d prefer.”

 

That last line was more of a joke, but it picked the other woman's interest. She stood and searched for a turquoise dress that didn't cover much more than the former, but lacked its transparency.

 

“It’s the first time someone makes such a strange request. Very well, I shall stay dressed, but you will take off your clothes.”

 

Cat did as she was told without a second thought… except the fact that she was free to do so naturally, and Shantir was not. She perfectly understood why she would cling to the smallest chunk of power, when her work rendered her powerless against others’ choices. It was just as Cat suspected. Once bare, she sat on the bed beside Shantir, who inspected her body with what she could tell was an “expert eye.”

 

“Well, Killer Witch, we are fortunate to have you as a customer. If your skills match your looks, the madam would be most displeased by the competition.”

 

“Would she?” Cat asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Shantir’s fake chuckle could have almost fooled her. Almost.

 

“This is business, you see, if she wants to keep us safe and warm and out of the streets, she needs the money. You are awfully curious for such a lethal lady,” she commented, cocking her head to the side.

 

It was a risky move, but Cat saw no other solution than getting straight to the point.

 

“I guess she must also need some really expensive makeup to cover those awful bruises,” Cat sighed, watching Shantir's eyes widen in alarm. “I mean, her face looks perfect, I just saw the ones on her forearm when she took my money. She has quick hands, but my eyes are quicker.”

 

The prostitute glared at Cat.

 

“Nin has been protecting us the best she could,” she retorted. “I don’t see why that would be any of a customer’s interest.”

 

“Be honest, Shantir. None of you are here by choice, are you?”

 

The woman froze. Cat hoped she had managed to get through to her. She doubted she would be able to beat Lehtinan's full armored guards.

 

“No one takes on this profession by choice,” Shantir finally replied. “I cannot tell you anymore without putting myself and the madam at risk. Make of it what you will.”

 

“I see. Thank you for your honesty, Shantir,” Cat said, rising from her seat to collect her clothes and gear. “Here, for the trouble I may have caused you.”

 

She extended her hand and gave Shantir one hundred gold pieces, twice the price of her company. The woman nodded and showed her out.

 

“I hope you can survive this place, Killer Witch,” she told her in a whisper before shutting the door. “I really do.”

 

_I will._

 

The void she had been feeling in her chest kept hurting, just like when she saw the dryads. If she kept investigating, perhaps she would find what she had lost. She passed by madam Nin and nodded at her with a smile.

 

“I hope you have found our Shantir satisfying.”

 

“I have,” Cat replied. “Thank you, madam.”

 

The older woman nodded as Cat walked towards her next destination. The thought of it made the void inside her churn, and she had to cover her mouth when a feeling of nausea overcame her, fearing she would throw up. She would much rather not be kicked out of that inn as well. At least not before she completed her investigation. After wandering around some narrow hallways and having guards open a few doors for her, she found the fighting pits. An extremely well dressed and perfumed man greeted her with enthusiasm.

 

“Ah, welcome, welcome! I see we have a new spectator. Do you wish to know about the fighting pits? Mind you, this kind of entertainment is not for the faint of heart, milady!”

 

That time, Cat allowed herself the luxury of rolling her eyes. Was everyone going to patronize her and “milady” her all the damned time?

 

“Please, I killed a man yesterday in the outside pits. I think I can stomach… what is this exactly, anyway?”

 

“This, milady, is where our bravest, mightiest gladiators fight for their lives against the most fearsome creatures of the Realms,” the man announced in excitement. “Blood is drawn, guts are spilled, and only one shall be crowned as victor; man or beast.”

 

Cat didn't need to guess why he didn't mention any women. Those were all with madam Nin. The void inside her tightened as she posed her next question.

 

“Are you telling me there are people willing to risk their lives against wild beasts?”

 

“Willing or unwilling, the result is the same; bloody entertainment for all!” Baeloth would surely have liked the guy. And he would have made for a much better entertainer.

 

“Excuse me, is that not just a fancy way of saying they're slaves?” Cat asked, with a chuckle she was unable to repress. She was growing restless.

 

The man gasped as if she just had insulted his granny’s pies.

 

“Please, do not make use of such a language, you could hurt the sensibilities of our fellow spectators,” he chastised her, rather offended himself, indeed. “We prefer to call them 'free workforce’.”

 

“I see. When will the next show start?”

 

“Right away, miss. Let me guide you to your seat.”

 

“I’m pretty sure I can find it by myself, thank you.”

 

_Ugh, how I hate the nobility._

 

There was a box seat with a nice view of the pits right in front of her nose. All its occupants were nobles. The Copper Coronet's entertainment catered for the cream of Amn, it seemed. She took a seat among the idiots and watched. A gate opened, and a guard forced a young man out. He looked a few years younger than Cat, and scared out of his mind. Then, a gate opened from the other side.

 

“Tabitha! Tabitha!” The audience cheered.

 

Tabitha was a beautiful leopard that emitted a low rumble when it made eye contact with its rival. Cat frowned.

 

“Isn't anyone going to arm that boy?” She asked the nobleman to her right.

 

“Arm him?” The man looked outraged by the question. “So he can slay his way out of the pits? Of course not! The real merit, the glory, lies in defeating the beasts with your own, bare hands.”

 

“You speak as if you ever tried fighting a leopard with your own bare hands,” Cat retorted, disgusted.

 

“Ah, Tabitha is the beastmaster’s favorite. She has never lost a match.”

 

It was easy to tell why. The animal was formidable. She preyed upon the scared young man, who desperately slammed his fists against the gates, begging to be allowed inside again, all the while watching the lethal creature drawing closer. Cat’s void churned and clenched her chest, and she began to feel sick. The excitement of a match to the death should entertain her, but that was no fair fight. That young man had no means of defending himself. When Tabitha roared, the slave screamed and lunged to the side to avoid her… to no avail. She was a lot faster and stronger. Cat felt the rage rising so quick she had to leave the place immediately, lest she killed somebody. Once outside, she took slow, deep breaths. With the proper gear, the young man would have had a chance. Without it, he was weak. Unworthy. But hadn't she been so too, before she became what she was? Wasn't she still weak, compared to other beings? Who could tell who was strong and who was weak, who was worthy and who wasn't? Did not death claim all eventually? Why would not all have the same chances to execute it as they wished? Why would _she_ not have a say in who lived and who died?

 

Then, flashbacks came to her. The miners in Cloakwood, Yeslick Orothiar… She had fred them all, not out of the goodness of her heart, but because she knew what it was like to have others engrave your path and try to mark your destiny. She remembered the story of the fateful coin, how hers, according to a hermit, had landed edge on… and the cruelty of the gods, especially of Ao, Tymora and Beshaba, for tracing the fate of each mortal instead of leaving it to them. Free will? Where, if one needed to appease a god for so much as good crops?

 

Then, she understood. She saw what that other missing piece was, that tiny fragment of herself that Irenicus had ripped off. She gripped it firmly and held it to her heart, and the void was gone.

 

It was freedom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fragment at the beginning is rather obvious, Welcome to the Jungle by Guns N' Roses. I thought it fits Athkatla and the guild wars really well.
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. From now on, things will begin to get a little better for Cat... though she'll still have to face plenty of challenges. As usual, don't hesitate to share your thoughts about my story, you make my day whenever I hear from you. Stay golden, my darlings!


	4. The Lady of the Slums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorn is growing weary of his service to Ur-Gothoz and decides to learn about a mystery woman who had devoted herself to end the slave trade at the slums of Athkatla and protect said area. Fate takes a surprising, and possibly good, turn for the blackguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorn makes his appearance! Yay! I bet many of you have been waiting for this. You will see I have tinkered with the canonical meeting with him and switch the order of the lovetalks, so we begin with the second one. I'm saving the first one for later. I have also altered the canon regarding which guild to choose. I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

_Help me, it's like the walls are caving in_

_Sometimes I feel like giving up_

_But I just can't_

_It isn't in my blood_

* * *

 

**_“Do not fail me this time.”_ **

 

_“I won't, master.”_

 

As of late, Dorn's conversations with Ur-Gothoz ended always the same way. Ever since he slayed Belhifet, he had done nothing but bathing in the blood of the pious and the innocent. He had killed dozens in the devil's name, and though he assured his blackguard that he had more than made up for Belhifet's destruction, the devil's hunger for souls had only grown more vicious and insatiable, leaving Dorn almost no time to rest or do anything other than his master's will. He remembered someone had warned him that the power he wielded had a price; his freedom. Back in that Luskan prison, where he already lacked the latter, it had been easy to make the choice. Now, however… things were much different.

 

He had been lurking around the fine temple district for a while, investigating his next sacrifice and learning whatever he could in order to devise a plan to strike. However, a half-orc in such a place was neither an usual nor a welcome sight, so he had to be cautious. Right then, he was looking for a place to rest his weary bones… and check something that had picked his curiosity.

 

Some called her an angel, some a devil, none was sure who she really was or how she arrived to Athkatla, but there was a remarkable woman who had seemed to take a vow to protect the slums of the city from slavery and the war between the two guilds that controlled the city. Some said she just pretended to aid the needy to accumulate power and influence in order to create a guild of her own. He would have paid no mind to such stories, but he was curious to see whether she was the kind-hearted angel the poor and the needy swore by. If that was the case, she would undoubtedly make for a succulent prize for his patron… and perhaps that would leave him satisfied for long enough that Dorn could enjoy a moment of respite.

 

The place where she was said to have established her base of operations looked deceptively humble. The wooden floor showed signs of recent repairs despite the stains of saliva, spilled alcohol, vomit, piss, grease, blood and other fluids he wasn't able or willing to identify. There was a small fighting pit, which was currently empty, and some drunkards sat next to it, laughing to the jokes they told. The service was abundant, as was the food. He noticed the employees used rather exotic garments, and many barmaids were scantily dressed. Despite that, he heard no rude comments, neither did he saw any inadequate behavior towards them, as it usually happened in those cases. Also, there were cats everywhere; he nearly tripped over one while searching for a table for himself. Once seated, he asked for bitter black ale and a pork roast. The maid suggested that he tried a special dish called “pasta”, but he insisted on the roast. It was some of the very few familiar things he could find in those accursed southern lands, so he would damn have it. While he waited, one of the wretched cats jumped into his lap and curled itself there like a ball, purring loudly. With a curse, Dorn shifted his legs and the feline leapt off him with a low hiss.

 

“Careful with that one,” a dwarf in a nearby table warned him between chuckles. “She's a nasty ole bitch, she’ll come back to scratch ye in yer sleep if ye’re not nice to her.”

 

“I am not afraid of some kitten,” Dorn scoffed. Was that dwarf really so drunk, or was he just mocking him? Whichever it was, he was asking for trouble.

 

“Ye’d better be. The Lady loves them and does nae allow any mistreatment on them. 'Tis actually her ye’d do well to fear, to be honest.”

 

That sounded more interesting.

 

“Why? What makes that so called Lady of the Slums so special?”

 

“I asked meself the same question first time she came here,” the dwarf replied after giving a good swig to his ale. “I never understood mages, they all be useless shitbags. But then this one comes, and an idiot grabs her ass. Not that I blame him, she has a fine ass.” He paused to chuckle. “So she threatens him and he challenges her, and his friends throw her into the pit. She begins to shove fireballs in the moron’s face, and then she does somethin’ and he be scared shitless. So she uses some other shiny spells, then pulls some daggers and swings them at him like a pro. And after stabbin’ him to near death, she does another magic crap, sucks the life of him and then stabs his throat.”

 

“Mages need to be resourceful in order to survive. What you tell me does not surprise me,” Dorn had met several spellcasters in his life, and they all relied in their guile and magical prowess in order to defeat stronger opponents. So it was a powerful mage he was dealing with? “What about the rumors that she’s some sort of angel?” He then asked, seeing if he could loosen the dwarf’s tongue any further.

 

For all response, he broke into laughter. It was a booming sound that startled some of the nearby cats. He laughed for a good while until he almost choked. He coughed between curses, took another swig of his ale, and then he grinned at the half-orc. His teeth were yellow, some were missing and one looked half rotten. They were the teeth of a man who had seen many battles.

 

“Why don’t ye ask her yeself? She's busy right now, but she'll come out of her little secret place, sooner or later.”

 

“Secret place?”

 

“Aye. Used to be a combat arena and the gladiator cells, but she used the money the ole owner got from the slave trade and turned it into some sort of lab… no one be allowed in there but herself,” the dwarf scrunched his superlative nose. “I liked the arena, but she said she’d nae have slavery happen, so now only volunteers fight in the pit over there, and it is decided beforehand if it be a death match. I don’t see the difference, if ye ask me, but I suppose the slaves who now work here for a good living do.”

 

So she did free the slaves of the city, or at least those of that particular inn. It seemed that Dorn would have to pay her a visit and question her himself. Downing the rest of his ale in one go, he stood and strode to one of the backdoors.

 

“Oi, ye’re nae supposed to go there while she be workin’!”

 

Dorn turned to the dwarf and grinned.

 

“I would like to see her try to stop me.”

 

* * *

Nobody tried to stop Dorn from opening the first door, which had a “staff only” cartel nailed to it. He suspected that was the dwarf's job, but he was too busy drinking himself to death to carry it out. A long pathway extended before the blackguard, with doors to the left; likely the freed slaves’. The hallway forked into three. To the left, Dorn saw yet more rooms; to the right, there was a door with a cartel reading “Tabitha’s lair”. Though curious about that, Dorn moved past it and continued forward, to the door at the other extreme of the pathway, the metallic one with the sign “Only authorized personnel” hanging from it, and with a guard standing vigilant.

 

“Halt! You are not authorized to enter this area!”

 

The man who spoke was a human with well groomed dark hair and a ridiculous goatee. He wore a shiny armor with the symbol of a palm engraved in it. Dorn groaned. A fucking Helmite.

 

“I said halt!” The priest exclaimed when he saw that Dorn just kept moving in his direction.

 

The man took an offensive stance. He wielded a mace and a shield, and seemed to have some experience in the warrior ways, judging by the good positioning of his legs as he prepared to attack. Dorn unsheathed his greatsword, but let him try the first hit. The Helmite raised his mace with a loud cry, but Dorn easily stopped the hit with his sword and made a circular sweep with his right foot between the cleric's feet, in order to make him lose balance. When he stumbled and dropped the mace, Dorn grabbed a hold of his face and headbutted him, knocking him cold.

 

Losing his patience, the blackguard literally tossed the cleric aside, deciding he would finish him off later; first he needed to make his move on the Lady of the Slums. If she was a magic user, it was imperative to catch her unaware. Even though his patron granted him numerous protections, mages could cloud people's minds and twist them with just a few words. He opened the door slowly, to ensure it wouldn’t creak. It was heavy and really thick, and he soon saw, or rather, heard, why the mage wanted it that way.

 

* * *

“Please, please, don't do this, I beg of you—”

 

“You know, it’s kind of fun how you speak as if I actually wanted to do this,” a feminine voice said.

 

The mage was on the other edge of what looked like some mix between a laboratory and a torture room. There was a man tied to a cross on the wall, sobbing and imploring. The woman had her back to Dorn, and held a scalpel in her right hand. There was something… familiar about her. Maybe her curvy figure, or those long black curls…

 

“Let’s see… I could go to Waukeen’s Promenade for a walk and get some fresh air, or to make some very important purchases, but instead I have to waste my time here skinning your nipples. All because you refuse to cooperate.”

 

Her voice had an odd musicality to it, and an edge of sarcasm and bitterness. It was a familiar voice… or was it all just a defensive spell she had woven to prevent surprise strikes?

 

“I-I can’t! Renal will… he will kill me!” The man on the wall pleaded like the pathetic fool he was.

 

A flash of metal, and the man was wailing once more. Dorn saw the woman pulling from an extremely thin layer of skin with absolute precision. She was definitely no saint, but he hadn't gone all the way there to return empty handed. He was about to move when he heard her laugh. It sounded as if she was genuinely enjoying a good joke of some sort, but her voice was cold and cruel. The soul of the Lady of the Slums wouldn't be so tasty for Ur-Gothoz, after all. But then, why all the good deeds the peasants kept babbling about?

 

“Darling, before I even tire of this and decide to call it a day, you will be begging me to drag you to Bloodscalp’s feet so he can kill you.”

 

The man kept pleading, and the woman continued the delicate labor of skinning his chest. Dorn decided it was time to strike. Silent as a grave, he took a breath… and he felt a sudden, sharp pain on his left shoulder. He peered at it. There was a throwing dagger buried within, in between the junctures that held the armor together. He looked back at the witch, who was now facing him… and gasped.

 

“Cat?”

 

The woman blinked in surprise, her left hand already holding a second dagger.

 

“Dorn?”

 

She stood there, paralyzed, her eyes darting between the blackguard's face, his wounded shoulder and his unsheathed sword.

 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her voice tense.

 

“Hrmm. Is that how you greet an old friend?” Dorn grunted in response as he tore the dagger from his shoulder. Since when did she use those?

 

“I could ask you the same. Did you not read the panel on the door that forbade everyone but authorized personnel to enter?” She asked, the scalpel hand on her hip in the way she always did whenever she was upset, or about to outsmart somebody with her unstoppable silver tongue. “And prying on me like that, greatsword in hand… did you really mean to attack me? You should really work on your disregard for etiquette, Dorn.”

 

The half-orc shrugged with his good arm. The wound Cat caused was nothing that wouldn’t go away with a potion of healing, but she had sharpened the tip of the dagger to make sure it would cause as much pain as possible. Since when did she know so much about daggers?

 

“I heard much talk about the Lady of the Slums and all her good deeds,” he explained. “I came to see if they were true.”

 

Cat put her still weeping captive under a sleep spell and turned to the blackguard.

 

“You weren't sent by Ur-Gothoz, I suppose.”

 

It was a casual comment, but there was something in her tone that made it evident that she suspected it a possibility. And it infuriated Dorn.

 

“Do you think I’m here to kill you?” He asked, not bothering to hide the indignation in his voice.

 

“Well, you _did_ come here to kill me,” Cat replied as she cleaned the blood from her scalpel with a handkerchief. “You just didn't know it was _me_.”

 

Why that mistrust, after everything they had gone through together? Dorn began to feel as though he was speaking to a complete stranger, instead of a former ally, friend… and the best one night stand in his life.

 

“Rest assured, Ur-Gothoz did not order me to kill you; I came here of my own volition,” he scoffed, the coldness in his voice now matching hers. “I certainly did not expect to see that the heroine and savior of the slums would be you, of all people.”

 

Cat fell silent for a moment and looked away. After some moments, she sighed and smiled at Dorn in the confident, mischievous way she used to, and she appeared to become the woman he had known once more.

 

“You and I have _a lot_ of catching up to do. Come, let's get out of here. I’m done with this idiot for today.” She turned for a moment to glare at the sleeping man he had been tormenting.

 

“Didn't you say he would be begging you to take him to… what was his name again?”

 

“Yeah, whatever, he’ll beg tomorrow when his wounds begin to become infected. I swear I’m not healing him until he speaks,” she replied in disdain, closing the door behind her.

 

“Heal him?” Dorn asked in disapproval.

 

“I can’t afford to lose my prisoners before they give me the information I need!” Cat protested as she began to walk down the pathway, with Dorn in tow.

 

Then, they heard a loud cry. The blackguard realized that the cleric he had just knocked down wasn't there anymore.

 

“Tabitha, no. Don’t look at me like that and follow me. That's it, good girl—ah, no, DON’T EAT ME!”

 

From the room at what was now the left corridor, Dorn saw the cleric from before, running in a panic.

 

“Milady! There's an intruder, I couldn't stop him so I brought Tabitha—AHHHH, NO!”

 

The cleric fell to the ground as the biggest leopard Dorn had ever seen pounced on him with a roar. Cat rolled her eyes and whistled. The leopard looked up at her.

 

“Tabitha, here.”

 

Tabitha actually obeyed Cat's command and approached the mage and emitted a low, rumbling purr when she petted her neck.

 

“That's it, good girl,” she cooed the huge cat in the sweetest tone Dorn had ever heard her use. “Anomen!”

 

The cleric practically jumped on his feet, his breath short from the race and the not-near-enough-death experience.

 

“Milady, the intruder, it’s—it’s him!” He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Dorn, who just rolled his eyes. Where did Cat find that idiot, and why did she keep him by her side?

 

“Yes, he’s an old friend of mine who is not accustomed to pay any mind to closed doors,” she replied, mockingly glaring at Dorn. Then, she gave a long sigh as she guided her new pet leopard back into her “lair”. “Anomen, how many times do I have to tell you not to open Tabitha's door by yourself? You smell like food to her!”

 

“Why can’t I do it and the alcoholic dwarf can?” The Helmite called Anomen complained in what looked a lot like a childish tantrum.

 

“Because he rarely bathes and Tabitha thinks he’s been dead for weeks,” Cat replied as she closed the door behind the big cat, not before hugging her and kissing her forehead as if she were one of the actual cats from the tavern. Before she did it, Dorn was able to catch a small glimpse of the room. Was that a jungle? “And he’s not an alcoholic, he just enjoys a good ale and sometimes avoids his duties, as I suspect it has been the case.”

 

Cat shot Dorn an inquisitive look as she said that last bit.

 

“He was indeed drinking at one of the tables. He said I should fear the Lady of the Slums. Now I know why,” he replied, looking back at the witch with a sly smile that seemed to really piss off the cleric.

 

“Like I said, avoiding responsibilities,” Cat shrugged. “By the way, some introductions are in order; Dorn, meet Anomen. He’s been helping me end the slave trade fiasco here at the Copper Coronet. Anomen, meet Dorn. We’ve travelled together for a long time.”

 

“Milady?” Anomen looked at a loss for words. “This… half breed is a friend of yours?”

 

“Watch your words, Helmite,” Dorn shot back in a menacing tone. “I have killed stronger men than you for less.”

 

“I have no doubt of it,” the cleric replied in disdain, “but you should not underestimate me, half-orc. You were lucky before.”

 

“Alright, can you two break it off? I am REALLY not in the mood for all this testosterone spilling,” Cat intervened, stepping in between both men and somehow managing to glare at both. “Dorn, please stop threatening to kill people and come with me. Anomen, take your judgemental shit somewhere else, I need to speak to Dorn in private.”

 

“Milady, I cannot leave you alone with this… this…”

 

“ENOUGH!” Cat’s voice boomed, and the stammering cleric fell silent at once. “As I said, Dorn and I have travelled together for years, I would actually trust him with my life, which is not something I can say of just anyone, so you can go back to your duties at the temple for now. I’ll find you there if I need your help again.”

 

“But—”

 

“NOW!”

 

Anomen stared at the pair in front of him for a moment, perplexed, before bowing to the woman.

 

“As my lady wishes.”

 

While leaving, he turned a few times to stare at Dorn in disbelief. Cat just huffed and motioned the blackguard to follow her. They seemed to be walking back to the tavern, but then she turned to the wall on the right and pushed with a hand. Dorn heard a click, and a section of the wall, framed like a door, moved to the outside. Cat crossed the threshold, with the blackguard following. The hidden door closed behind them.

 

“Pretty, isn't it? The former owner of the inn had some commoners living here, so I moved them out.”

 

“I suppose they did not go willingly,” Dorn said, looking around.

 

“No, but Tabitha has thoroughly enjoyed hunting and dining them.”

 

The place was not unlike a royal suite, with a sitting room which had a fireplace, shelves filled to the brim with books, and cushions everywhere on the floor. In the middle of the room, there was a round table and a chair, both made of some noble wood Dorn did not recognize. It was full of scrolls, open books, gems, gold, silver and copper coins; coin counters… and an ornate little silver box of dark weeds that Cat was very quick to close and snatch off the blackguard's view. She was… blushing?

 

“It’s not… They calm me down and help me concentrate, okay? And I really need to, with this stupid voice in my head telling me to kill everything in my sight,” she indeed looked embarrassed. She was even biting her lips like she did whenever she was nervous.

 

“Was that black lotus?” Dorn asked, genuinely surprised. It seemed that a lot had changed since he last saw Cat.

 

“The Copper Coronet has an insane stash,” Cat explained as she slumped on the chair with a sigh. “It was originally meant only for clandestine trade, but I’ve taken a good portion of it for myself.”

 

“I suppose listening to the voice in your head is somehow not a good idea,” Dorn guessed, remembering that time at Boareskyr Bridge when she was under the taint’s influence.

 

“I tried that long before it became a voice; when it was just a feeling,” Cat revealed. “It only got worse.”

 

“Could it mean you are closer to ascension?”

 

For some reason, Cat glared at him. She looked really frustrated about something.

 

“Of course not! This is not the taint, just a vulgar imitation planted inside my brain…” She rose from the chair and began to pace nervously around the room, not unlike a certain leopard would do if she were hungry. “The problem is; I can’t get it out. Or rather, I don’t know how to. I guess if I killed the wizard who put my mind upside down everything would return to normal, but I have no way of knowing and reaching him will be… costly.”

 

“A wizard did that to you?”

 

Cat stopped her pacing and turned to Dorn with the most tired look he had ever seen in her.

 

“I’d better tell you from the beginning. Get comfortable.”

* * *

“So that mage you chase… Irenicus, he captured you? How did you allow this to happen?”

 

Cat rolled her eyes. Out of all the uncomfortable questions he could have asked about her imprisonment at Irenicus’ dungeon, Dorn had to go and pick one of the ones that stung. As usual.

 

“Well, you know my love of cages and chains…” she replied in a sarcastic tone that she tried _very_ hard not to lace with seductiveness. She still remembered well their last conversation before they became once again reunited, and his presence was more distracting that she would have thought, considering her current predicament.

 

“Funny. I’m sure your captor was suitably entertained.”

 

“It was _not_ funny,” Cat rolled her eyes at Dorn’s remark.

 

_Stop smiling at me like that, you bastard. You’re distracting._

 

“So this wizard and his minions overcame you,” the blackguard insisted, his smirk vanishing into a disapproving frown.

 

Cat instinctively balled her fists. Had he always been so irritating?

 

“To remind you, Dorn: like you, I didn’t go down without a fight,” she spat as she glared at the half-orc.

 

“Sulking is how you deal with harsh words?” He kept taunting her. Why wouldn’t he just stop and drop the fucking matter? “If I recall correctly, I was betrayed, not ambushed, witch. There is a difference.”

 

“Of course; you weren’t surrounded by shadowy figures like the one that almost killed us both at the dead magic zone,” she let herself fall at a particularly big and comfy cushion and quickly changed the subject before he could reply. She was not in a good mood. She still didn’t have the answers she needed, so an argument with the only person in that stinking city she could actually trust was completely out of the question. “Be that as it may, how do you feel now about this whole Simmeon business?”

 

Dorn huffed as he sat on another cushion beside her. He did seem to be looking for an argument. Why, Cat couldn’t tell.

 

“I exacted my vengeance. My former companions are dust in the wind and of no further concern to me.”

 

The witch nodded. She wondered if she would ever find that sort of peace. She rose from her seat and went to her bedchambers. She walked back into her sitting room with her long ebony pipe and opened the silver box that contained the black lotus weeds. She put a couple threads inside the pipe and lit it up by summoning a tiny flame from her index finger while she sat back on her cushion. When she was about to inhale her brand new poison, Dorn took the pipe from her hands, and cuffed them both in his free one. She had forgotten how big they were in comparison to hers. He gave her a stern look, but there was genuine concern in there, she could tell.

 

“All the same, Cat, I learned from it,” he said, referring to the betrayal he suffered. “One has to be prepared, self-sufficient and exact proper vengeance for transgressions.”

 

The blackguard set the pipe aside and brushed a stray curl from the witch’s hair, placing it behind her ear in a gentle gesture that reminded her of a night she wished had never ended.

 

“Remember, as the stakes will grow ever higher, mistakes will also grow increasingly lethal,” he spoke in a softer tone now, his eyes caught in hers.

 

Cat wanted to give in, to let him a little closer, just enough so she could kiss him again. But he was right; she could not allow herself to make any mistakes. Her head had to be fully focused on the dangerous game she was playing. She leaned into him… and with a smirk, she used a shocking grasp spell to get rid of his grip on her hands. He withdrew his hand with a surprised shout, and she took the chance to retrieve her pipe and stand up. As she sucked in the smoke, she held the dagger she hid in her sleeve and pressed the edge to the unprotected portion of Dorn’s neck she could access from her advantageous position. He froze, his dark eyes never leaving hers. She tried really, _really_ hard to ignore the spark of excitement she saw in them.

 

“I have learned, too,” she said as she withdrew the dagger and took another puff from her pipe. “I was just going to tell you about it.”

 

Dorn watched her closely as she sat back down beside him on the cushions.

 

“I’m all ears.”

 

“The torment Irenicus put me through… well, I won’t bore you with details, but I did learn a few things as he did it. He is probably the most powerful mage I have ever met… And mind you, we both met Elminster.”

 

“You sound like you admire him.”

 

That sounded like an accusation.

 

“In a way, I guess I do,” she replied while exhaling the lilac fumes. “He is capable of great things, things I was not even aware were possible. The way he can delve into people’s minds… it’s a lot more sophisticated than what mind flayers do, he can… cut whole concepts out, bring out repressed or locked memories, or even implanting new concepts and feelings, you see?”

 

“Did he do that to you?” Dorn asked, probably already aware of the answer.

 

Cat laughed bitterly.

 

“Why do you think I’m in this… deplorable state? He stripped me of ideas that made up my very identity, and it took a lot from me to recover them… and I’m not even sure I remember everything related to them,” she paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. There was a lot to tell. “From the experience, I learned this; nothing he can take from me is ever truly gone, because nothing is ever really forgotten. Well, except spells. He cut my connection to the Weave from a certain point, I guess he did it to ensure I wouldn’t escape, or that I wouldn’t be powerful enough to actually fight him if I did. So I have to learn again lots of spells I used to know. Which means buying or somehow finding the scrolls, writing them down in my book and memorizing until my brain hurts more than it usually does… Did I mention that he also gave me migraines? It’s probably just a side effect of him tinkering with my mind and I’m hopeful they’ll also go away with time, but they are the absolute worst.”

 

“What about your new… abilities?” Dorn inquired, shifting his stare to the sleeves of her robes.

 

“Oh, yes, it was actually his idea, too,” she reply, lacing her voice with sarcasm to avoid showing the rage the memories evoked. “He thought that a Bhaalspawn should be proficient with the weapon consecrated to their father, so he tampered with my motor skills… that actually hurt physically too, you know. But now, instead of slings, I can use daggers.”

 

“You do it rather well, yes,” the blackguard complained, clutching his injured shoulder.

 

“Well, what can I say? I hate him, and I hate what he did to Imoen and I, but he also gave me knowledge, willingly or not,” she shrugged as she searched in her backpack, which laid to her side, and tossed the half-orc a potion of healing that he quaffed as he kept listening. “And I will use every tool available to me in order to get what I want.”

 

“Like torture?” He asked, after licking the potion off his lips. Cat pursed her own lips at the gesture to prevent herself from biting them. He was still _so_ alluring…

 

“That idiot has important information that I need. And yes, I learned a great deal about that as well, trust me. Irenicus was an excellent teacher, and I will pay him back in kind… once I can reach him.”

 

“So, what is your situation now?”

 

“Let’s see… the two most important criminal organizations in this city are warring each other and want to recruit me. I trust none of them, but they won’t take no for an answer. So I came into his tavern, learned about the slavery going on, asked a few favors of a few willing idiots, casted a few charm spells, stole the telepathic connection of a beastmaster with Tabitha, killed everyone involved in the slavery trade and dismantled the whole thing. Now I have a pet leopard, a pit where only _willing_ warriors fight each other, former prostitutes that willingly act as spies for me and seduce noblemen into gifting them expensive jewels that we sell to cover the costs of maintaining this place whole and safe… and most importantly, I’m doing everything in my power so the guild war explodes before any of the factions has time to confront me. Basically, I’m surrounded by enemies and I have a lot of fred people to protect and favors to return, not to mention finding Irenicus, who has Imoen…”

 

At that point, Cat had to stop. She felt the rage rising again as she remembered what her friend had to go through. Every day she spent in that man’s clutches added a bit to the witch's feelings of failure, fear, and loathing… both for Irenicus and for herself, for failing the one person she had promised to protect. She took a longer drag from her pipe to stop her hands from trembling and to be able to focus on the conversation going on while ignoring the voice telling her to _kill, kill, KILL._

 

“I don't understand why you insist on protecting all those people,” Dorn shook his head. “If they were enslaved, it means they were too weak. It’s best to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”

 

Cat let out a dark chuckle.

 

“You know, that’s really ironic coming from you.”

 

“Watch it,” he growled, baring his teeth at the witch. “I gave my freedom willingly in exchange for power. It’s a contract, I’m not thrown into a pit to die for my master's entertainment.”

 

 _For now,_ Cat thought while she exhaled the smoke.

 

“Anyway, I have spent a fortune in very powerful wards for this place because these people, weak as they may look to you, are crucial for my future,” Cat explained, shifting her position on the cushion to get more comfortable. She really needed to relax, and Dorn was not helping in any possible way. “When they see me, they see a savior, a protector… someone to worship.”

 

At last, Dorn seemed to get what she was trying to say through his thick skull.

 

“You have made them into your followers,” he understood. “But still, why them? Why do you settle for the weak, when you could have much more powerful worshippers?”

 

“You don't give them enough credit,” Cat laughed. “Some are rather powerful warriors and knowledgeable druids; others have special talents, be it for magic, thievery, engineering or the arts of seduction. Rest assured, nobody here is useless, and all have contributed to my goals. Besides, there is something else I learned over time, but I only really understood at Irenicus’ dungeon… Death comes in many shapes, not just murder. So why limit myself like that? Why not seizing all of it?”

 

“You speak of getting the whole portfolio of death? Not just murder?” Dorn asked, his disdain completely replaced by growing interest.

 

“Limiting it to murder was the cause of my father's downfall,” Cat replied in a whisper. “I have taught them, you see. No matter how painful or insignificant their lives are, death comes to them just as it does to kings, queens and all mortal things, no matter how much better their lives were. So they should not fear it, but embrace it in the best way they judge. Some murder, others turn to mercy killings, there has been a couple suicides… and others just live their lives to the fullest before they're over. All of it in my name. Even if I am not yet a goddess, having believers _should_ have some sort of effect on my divine half, or so I theorize. Maybe enough to make me able to confront Irenicus.”

 

Dorn fell silent for a moment. Most of Athkatla's population was concentrated in the slums area, which meant Cat already had a rather solid base of believers, even before achieving ascension.

 

“Perhaps your plan is not as bad as it first seemed,” he admitted. “Do tell me, what will be your next move?”

 

“Therein lies the problem,” Cat said as she let out another cloud of smoke. “The guild war is imminent, but both factions served Irenicus at some point. The Shadow Thieves say he betrayed them, but I still don't trust them. They’ll just try to turn me into their puppet and throw me against the vampires. I have no interest in taking part in this war, at least not right now. Capturing Shadow Thieves and making them 'disappear’ is easy, and the rest blame the vampires for it, but they still don’t dare to make a move. The vampires, however… That idiot at my torture chambers built a mechanism, a trap, which could potentially kill unaware vampires. I need to take the information about it from him and have my engineer reproduce it. The vampires know their combat prowess is superior to that of the Thieves, but if they somehow found it threatened…”

 

“They would attack and unleash the war,” Dorn finished for her. “It is a smart plan, but what if they come to seek you instead?”

 

Cat sighed.

 

“My intent is being on my way to finding Imoen and exacting revenge on Irenicus by the time that happens. I knew they were taken by the Cowled Wizards for the illegal practice of magic, so I sent the best of my spies to seduce one of them into spilling the beans. The idiots make celibacy vows and allow no women in their stupid organization, I don't know why, but that makes them vulnerable, at least those who are attracted to women. Thanks to that, I know both Imoen and Irenicus are entrapped in a prison for mages who have lost their minds or become too bothersome to deal with. It's called Spellhold.”

 

“So? What is stopping you from bursting in there and tear that Irenicus to pieces?” Dorn asked with a deep frown. He certainly disliked her recent inactivity just as much as Cat did.

 

“Well, for starters, the fact that it’s in an island _very_ far from here, so I need quite a lot of money for a good ship with a competent tripulation, as well as provisions for the long journey… and most importantly, actual companions I can trust. Minsc was good for taking out the former guards, but he's too insane to be reliable, so I sent him off to Tradesmeet. There's a group of Shadow Druids over there; they helped him to move the pit beasts to their natural habitats and they turned their cages into a neat jungle environment for Tabitha. I expanded it with magic and turned it into an alternate dimension of sorts, it cost me a fortune... Aside from Minsc, Korgan isn't bad; once I help him get this old dusty book he wants he’ll follow me wherever, as long as he gets to kill something. You two would get along. But the other two…”

 

Cat gave a long sigh and ran a hand on her ever entangled locks of hair.

 

“One’s a noblewoman who used to think it would be cool to be a thief, but then stopped and became a mageling. A stupid elitist. She's waiting at her father's hold; her territory is under attack, her enemies are marching towards her keep, and I’m supposed to help her defend it. Once that's done, I’ll get _very well_ paid and she’ll get out of my sight. The other one…”

 

“Let me guess, the Helmite,” Dorn spat, narrowing his eyes.

 

“To be honest, I didn't even _need_ to ask him for help. I mean, have you seen the way he gawks at me?” Cat began to rant. “I bet the poor idiot never got laid in his entire life. He thinks I’m some kind of damsel in distress, and that it’s his mission to 'save’ me. From what, I really don’t want to know. But he’s the only cleric with fighting experience I’m counting on right now, so I have to put up with him for now.”

 

The blackguard's expression grew darker as she spoke. His first meeting with the cleric hadn't gone exactly smooth, but Cat could tell his temper was worsening the more he heard.

 

“You should get rid of him as soon as possible. You know he wants you, and you know he’s stubborn. He won't take 'no’ for an answer.”

 

How strange. Why was Dorn criticising Anomen’s infatuation with Cat, and not his uptight morals and the racist comments he made about the blackguard? Against her better judgement, she decided to keep trying his patience. Giggling, she rose from her cushion and threw herself on the surprised half-orc, straddling his waist with her legs, and she smirked as she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

 

“Well, would you?”

 

Cat felt him yank at her hair and protested for the sudden offense, but then Dorn grabbed her chin with his free hand, still inside his gauntlet, so she couldn't feel its warmth. She wanted to. A lot more than she knew she should.

 

“Hrmm. If I recall correctly, you never said 'no’ to me. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

 

“There's a first time for everything, they say,” Cat tried to focus on her breathing, and not the way the half-orc's eyes wandered from her face to her cleavage. She had modified her robe so it would be more revealing, seeing that Amnian fashion wasn't as prudish as in the Sword Coast, and she had always felt proud of her appearance and comfortable with flaunting it. She got the robe cut so her raven tattoo would show, and the pieces that covered her breasts were held together and connected to the main piece by golden underwire.

 

“ _If_ that time comes, I shall step aside,” he replied, freeing her hair and chin at the same time. “Contrary to others, I know to respect boundaries.”

 

“That's good to hear,” Cat sighed as she stood back up, trying to put some distance between her and the blackguard. Right. Black lotus also had mild aphrodisiac effects. Damnit. “So what do you say? Would you like to travel with me again, go slay a powerful mage and who knows how many more?”

 

Dorn slowly stood up and stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing her proposal.

 

“You are wise to ask for my help,” he began, “but I might ask the same of you. As of late, Ur-Gothoz has been… most demanding.”

 

Cat bit her lip.

 

“Is it because of Belhifet?” She asked, fearful of having caused _him_ trouble as well.

 

“Hah! No, I solved that rather quickly. Remember Reverend Brother Hormorn?” He waited for Cat to nod. “Well, I found him, and I killed him, his whole family and his whole order. No, Ur-Gothoz just… keeps asking for more and more.”

 

“And it’s taking a toll on you,” Cat guessed. That would explain his sour mood.

 

“You could say that. Serving him… it doesn't bring me the joy it once did.”

 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Cat offered, placing a hand on his arm.

 

He seemed to be about to accept, but then he took a step back, as if wanting to keep a distance.

 

“No. I want to accomplish my next mission.”

 

“I’ll help you with it,” Cat instantly replied. “What is it about?”

 

“I am to kill a priest of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart in their own hall,” Dorn explained.

 

“Oh…”

 

“What?” He huffed, impatient.

 

“I guess I _will_ need to get myself a new cleric, after all,” Cat chuckled. “Alright, let's go for a walk with Korgan and see who might be able to help us. But before that…”

 

Cat disappeared once more inside her bedchambers. She returned with a sheathed greatsword.

 

“I see you have somehow retrieved your Rancor…”

 

“Took it from Belegarm’s cold, dead hands before I left Baldur's Gate,” Dorn explained with a smirk.

 

“As unexplainably attached as you might be to that sword, how about you try this one?”

 

Dorn unsheathed the greatsword and gasped. He turned to Cat in wonder.

 

“Does it ring a bell?” She asked, playful.

 

“How?” He simply asked.

 

“I’m not entirely sure myself, but if you want it, it’s yours.”

 

Dorn put the weapon back in its scabbard. He untied the sheath of his Rancor and let it rest on the cushion Cat had been sitting on. He replaced his old, reliable weapon with the one sword that had defeated and almost killed him. The sword of Cat's half-brother.

 

The Sword of Chaos was his now.

 

* * *

“Ye promised ye’d help me find the damned book of Kaza!” Korgan bellowed, punching a table so full of mugs of ale it was a miracle none fell to the floor.

 

“And I will, but we have a couple more urgent things to do first,” Cat insisted. “Just come with us, there’ll be treasure and murder.”

 

“Aye, aye, just let me finish me ale,” the dwarf grumbled as he took a long swig from his last mug. He hit the table with it, stood, and spat on the floor.

 

“Korgan!” Cat protested.

 

“Sorry, ole habits die slow,” he chuckled. “So ye say we’re goin’ to slay a priest? I hope it’s that Anomen idiot.”

 

“Unfortunately not,” Dorn replied with a growl.

 

“Killer Witch? Could you come over here?”

 

Dorn shot Cat a strange look as she tended to the person who asked for her. It was Shantir. Her best spy, and a really smart engineer. There was a lot more to the woman than anyone would have credited her for, had she not been fred. Now, she could freely explore her talents, and Cat felt genuinely happy for her.

 

“How many nicknames do you have?” Dorn asked.

 

“Ye mean she has a name?” Korgan questioned the half-orc in surprise.

 

“Not here,” Cat hissed. “What is it, Shantir?”

 

“It's this woman… she says she wishes to speak with you,” Shantir signalled a pale human in rogue clothes, standing at a dark corner. “She doesn't seem to be feeling too well.”

 

“Hasn't Bernard served her anything?” Cat demanded. Most people feeling off immediately improved after trying one of the kind man’s ales.

 

Shantir shook her head.

 

“She only asks for water, but she doesn't drink it. She seems rather confused, it’s a bit hard to understand her ramblings. Perhaps she is looking for 'the gift’.”

 

“Alright, I’ll tend to her.”

 

*~*~*

 

“The gift?” Dorn asked as Cat approached the pale woman.

 

“The gift of death. Some come searchin’ fer it. Fools, if ye ask me. But our mystery lady’s more than happy to provide.”

 

“Of course she would,” Dorn nodded.

 

After a short while ignoring Korgan’s prodding to find out Cat’s real name, she came back with the pale woman in tow.

 

“Korgan, Dorn, meet Hexxat!” She cheerily announced. “She says she’s a skilled thief, and that she wishes to visit a place called 'Dragomir's tomb’ in the Graveyard District. It seems there’s great treasure in there.”

 

“So we get done with the priest business and go straight to the graveyard?” Korgan asked in excitement. Cat could tell it was excitement that he felt because of the death grip he had on his axe.

 

Before the witch could reply, one of her followers entered the tavern.

 

“Lady, have you heard the news? Some priests of Beshaba have captured a drow priestess and they're going to burn her in a pyre at the Government District. They want as many witnesses as possible. Should we go and honor the drow’s death?”

 

A drow priestess? Cat had a bad feeling about it.

 

“A priestess? Which deity does she worship?”

 

“When the Beshabans took off her cowl, they saw she wore a necklace with the symbol of Shar,” the eyewitness recounted.

 

Shar… it could be mere coincidence, but Cat would not risk it. Besides, she was convinced that since the quarreling sisters of luck and fate could not direct her own life, they kept sending her acquaintances’ coins spinning around her. Which was useful, but extremely annoying. And dangerous for said acquaintances.

 

“No, nobody’s going to the burning. That Sharran might be a friend of mine, so I’m going to save her,” Cat decided. “Stay put and don’t let any pale ones in, alright?”

 

Her follower nodded and went back to his tasks. Cat turned to her still small group and smile.

 

“Rejoice, my friends, we just found ourselves a new cleric!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from In My Blood by Shawn Mendes. I think it pretty much sums up Cat and Dorn's current situation. And yes, my musical taste is completely inconsistent and nonsensical, but whatever.
> 
> As always, I await your thoughts and comments on this chapter. Changing the canon doesn't lack difficulties, I need to have the story very well thought out in order for everything to work. So if you feel it's not realistic or something is wrong, please do tell me. Your feedback pushes me to keep going and helps me to improve.


	5. Witches, tombs and teenage dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat rushes to Viconia's rescue and assembles a team in order to aid Hexxat and prove what a red wedding is actually about -uh, forget that last bragging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! This time, we'll have some action with an assembled team -still not the definite one, but I have yet to complete the missions to get Edwin, heh-, the ultimate wedding crashing, some dismemberments, lots of murders, and vampires! Just another day in Cat the Bhaalspawn's life. As usual, PoV shifts will be marked for easier reading. This time there's some spotlight on Dorn and Korgan, and a canonical dialogue between Yoshimo and Korgan. I really hope you enjoy it.

_We're gonna rise 'til we fall_

_They say we got no future at all_

_They wanna keep us down but they can't hold us down anymore_

_We're gonna rise 'til we fall_

_No, they don't speak our language_

_They say we're too savage_

_No, no, we don't give a... anymore_

* * *

 

“Burn her! Burn the drow witch!”

 

The drow priestess sent one last death glare to the crowd and closed her eyes.

 

“Shar, my deliverance is in your hands…”

 

“Oh, Hells no!”

 

A woman in vermillion robes stepped on the platform of the pyre, dagger in hand. She winked at the priestess.

 

“Hi there, Viconia! It’s been a while, huh?”

 

Cat cut the rope that tied the priestess to the wooden pole of the pyre, and as she fled, the mage pushed it in the Beshabans’ direction, making them flee to avoid being smashed. She was a little disappointed to see there were no casualties. Instead, she found herself in front of an angry mob. Just like old times…

 

“Blasphemy! She has fred the drow!” One of Beshaba’s followers shouted. “Kill her!”

 

There was only one priest among the Beshaban crowd, so it would be relatively easy. Dorn and Korgan were already charging together against him. Hexxat moved surprisingly fast for her groggy state, and in no time, she was beside Cat, back to back, each wielding their daggers. In the meantime, Viconia summoned a spiritual hammer to fight with, as well as the holy might of her dark goddess. She smashed the heads of all those who dared to try and touch her, while Cat slashed arteries and let the blood shower her as she laughed. Hexxat was also acquainted with vital organs such as the heart, and even though she moved slower than the witch, she rarely missed her target. Dorn and Korgan kept the cleric at bay, lunging continuous attacks to force him to break his focus and dodge, thus preventing him from using spells. The three women went to their aid in the fight, which saw a quick end when Korgan cracked the Beshaban’s helmet and skull with his axe. The problem, however, laid in taking it out, so deep he had buried it in. The issue was solved with Dorn's assistance. The dwarf looked up at the half-orc in approval.

 

“Ye’re not so bad, Dorn. Ye hold yer own well. Nice swings of the blade and all.”

 

“You are quite skilled yourself,” the blackguard complimented the dwarf, “though you should make sure you can retrieve your weapon from wherever you thrust it into.”

 

“Aw, look, they're becoming friends,” Cat commented between giggles. “I suggest we go wash ourselves very quickly so we can go to the temple of the Order of the Most Tedious Morons without raising suspicion. I’d rather make that killing fast. I don't want too much attention from the elites of the city just yet.”

 

“It _will_ be an open killing,” Dorn retorted, “but fine, let’s try things your way.”

 

“For the sake of our personal hygiene, I say yes,” Viconia added, retrieving her stolen cowl from the dead priest. "Who is it that we're going to kill, anyway?"  
  
Cat entangled her arm in the drow's and guided her with a mischievous smile.  
  
"I'll explain everything on the way."

 

* * *

After a not so quick stop at the Copper Coronet –Cat showed Viconia the wonders of the little private pool inside the bathroom of her bedchambers–, the group was clean and ready to take on the temple. An armed group didn't get much attention, as the ebb and flow of adventurers and squires was not uncommon in that temple, but still, Cat preferred to make it as quick and discreet as possible. After crossing the threshold, a guard greeted them at the hall. The priest they were supposed to slay was called Bollard Firejaw, and he was supposed to be officing a ceremony at the moment, at the High Hall of the Radiant Heart.

 

“Have you come for the wedding?” The guard asked.

 

“The wedding?” Cat repeated in shock, before turning to Dorn. He just shrugged. So that was the ceremony the priest was tending to? So much for discretion…

 

“Seriously? Weddings repulse me,” Viconia complained.

 

The guard looked at the strange group before him, unable to know what to make of them. Cat decided to act before having to take more drastic measures.

 

“Oh, come on, Viconia, don’t be like that,” she joked, patting the priestess’ shoulder. “What would life be without love?”

 

“Love does not exist. Only lust and convenience,” the drow spat, bitter. “That is what people use idiots who believe in love for.”

 

Then she got a little closer to Cat, to whisper away from prying ears.

 

“In fact, my friend, the sooner you learn this, the less you will suffer. You have already been foolish enough,” she told the witch in a hush, discreetly darting her eyes towards Dorn.

 

“Trust me, I am in control,” Cat replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “Right now, I am focused on saving my friend Imoen and making the wizard who tortured us pay.”

 

“I really hope it is so,” Viconia sighed.

 

Right then, the guard cleared his throat.

 

“So… are you with the groom or the bride?”

 

Cat saw there were a couple more guards in front of the door that led to the hall, shooting the group dirty looks. If they just passed, the pair would undoubtedly follow.

 

“Actually…” Cat took Dorn's hand for a moment, earning a surprised look from him. She raised their arms. “I’m with this bloodthirsty blackguard!”

 

And thus, all hell broke loose. Dorn and Korgan were quick to kill the first guard, while Cat shot magic missiles at one of the two who guarded the doors, aided by Viconia's bullets and Hexxat’s throwing daggers. With his comrades fallen, the remaining guard dropped on his knees and begged for mercy. As a response, Dorn beheaded him. Cat took a quick look at the mess around them. It was about to get worse, so she'd might as well enjoy it.

 

“Oh, Dorn, you’re taking me to crash a wedding, one of my dreams since I was a teenager,” she sighed dramatically as she opened the door.

 

“That actually explains a lot,” Viconia commented with a smirk.

 

Cat turned to the equal parts bemused and astonished half-orc, and gave him her most charming smile, unable to hide her genuine excitement.

 

“You’ve just made me the happiest girl in the Realms!”

 

* * *

Nobility weddings were the worst. They always had guards “invited” by the families to ensure nothing bad happened. It wouldn't be a problem, however. Cat already had a plan in mind for them as she passed them by. It was something she learned since she began to fight with daggers and torture Shadow Thieves; when you got up close and personal to people with a stabbing tool, it ended up becoming really easy to tell who was brave and who was a coward. And those were cowards, it was written in their eyes. They were such cowards that they disgusted her. She made a mental note to plug their eyes out when they were done.

 

“Well, it appears there is some drama,” Viconia whispered in joy. It turned out that the wedding was due to the bride’s supposed pregnancy, but now she was denying it and claiming that she lied so she could marry the man she loved, who clearly didn't love her so much after finding out she had tricked him into marriage.

 

“This be bloody boring,” Korgan complained. “Are we killing the priest or nae?”

 

For all response, Dorn strode to the altar and drew his sword.

 

“Firejaw!” He bellowed. “Today you die! Ur-Gothoz shall feast on your soul!”

 

The priest quickly grabbed a flail he had hidden under his robes.

 

“You are a fool if you think you can defeat me in the Great Hall of my order, blackguard,” Firejaw replied as he stepped closer to Dorn. “I shall end your evil and drive it away from the sanctity of this place!”

 

The duel began immediately. The priest was much quicker than he looked, dressed in his ceremonial attire, and he was able to avoid Dorn's swings. Cat knew she wasn't supposed to intervene; the killing blow had to be Dorn's so he could claim Firejaw’s soul. The wedding guards were still as statues, too; watching the scene unfolding in awe and horror, while the guests were paralyzed, taken aback by the sudden display. They were probably foolish enough to trust that Firejaw would win the fight. In any case, Cat and her remaining companions went back to wait at the door, blocking the only way out.

 

*~*~*

 

Whoever won the fight would doom the soul of the other, so no one else could step into it. Though he hadn't managed to strike yet, Dorn was keeping Firejaw at a defensive stance, unable to do anything but save himself from his hits. The blackguard was aware that the priest was trying to tire him, taking advantage of his lighter gear, but Dorn would not have that. He had come to claim his soul, and he would not leave without it. He released an aura of despair that hit the priest, making him fall to his knees despite the magic protections he counted with. The blackguard took the opportunity to bury his sword in his opponent’s guts, cutting through his spine and sticking out from his back. The nobles began to scream in horror, and the guards finally reacted and moved from their position, with their weapons unsheathed and ready.

 

“There are too many witnesses,” Dorn commented as he used one of his legs to push the priest’s body off his greatsword. “We should kill them all.”

 

“Please, no!” The bride screeched. “We won't tell anyone, I promise!”

 

“Sorry, darling, but he’s kind of right,” Cat replied as she stepped forward and released a fireball that quickly got the group rid of all the wedding assistants.

 

In the meantime, Dorn, Korgan, Hexxat and Viconia ran to the guards. With one of Cat's fear spells, the feeble-minded men were harmless like babies.

 

“Why’d ye do that? Now we have to chase them all around the place!” Korgan complained as he hit a guard’s skull with a throwing axe.

 

“It’ll be quicker if they don’t fight back,” Cat explained as her magic missiles and Viconia's bullets took down another guard.

 

Huffing, Dorn took his crossbow and shot at the closest escaping fool while Hexxat threw daggers at him. Since he was too panicked to fight and too confused to find the nearest exit, he was brought down in no time. The last guard died after an axe cut half of his arm, a dagger found his liver, a bolt shot through his heart and a bullet cracked his skull like a nut. It was then that the group noticed Cat's absence. After looking around, Dorn saw her at the other side of the hall, laughing like a maniac as she took out her enchanted dagger. The bride had  managed to avoid Cat's fireball by rushing to hide behind a pillar, but the witch just found her, and the noblewoman was down on her knees, tears streaming down her face, ruining the makeup she wore.

 

“Please… please don't kill me! I’m pregnant, I—”

 

Her begging was silenced with a quick and precise slash on her lower abdomen. Cat stuck her fingers inside, searching, ignoring the noblewoman’s pained croaking and violent trembling. She retrieved something with a pinkish tone, covered in the woman's blood. She cut it open with her dagger and inspected it. Her grin amplified.

 

“No, you’re not,” she replied, before slitting the bride's throat.

 

* * *

After the bloody slaughter at the wedding, the party was in a much better mood. Except for Hexxat, who kept stumbling about and muttering to herself. Cat eyed her with worry.

 

“Alright, I think our next stop should be the graveyard.”

 

“Fuckin’ finally!” Korgan spat on the floor. Since they were at the streets, and not _her_ inn, Cat said nothing on the fact.

 

“We will help Hexxat find her treasure first, and then we’ll retrieve your book,” Cat commanded. “I suggest we move now, so we can get this done before sundown. I have a couple acquaintances at the graveyard I’d rather not run into.”

 

“You still have a special talent for making enemies, _abbil,_ ” Viconia commented, smiling under her cowl. “Perhaps I’m not as safe by your side as I originally thought.”

 

“Is there any place where you would be?”

 

Viconia glared at Cat in response.

 

“That's what I thought.”

 

“You have changed,” Viconia whispered.

 

Cat turned to the drow, curious.

 

“How so?”

 

“You used to be more amicable with those you called your friends,” the priestess elaborated. “You have grown… colder.”

 

Cat did not reply. Could that be Irenicus’ work, too? Or just a consequence of the torment she had to endure? Had she really grown to trust nobody, like her captor had recommended she did?

 

No. He wasn't right about affection. Or was he?

 

Whatever the answer was, she had more urgent concerns at the moment. Like how she was supposed to help Hexxat. Cat didn't really believe there was “GREAT treasure” like the thief put it, but sacking a tomb would undoubtedly bring plenty of benefits. However, she was certain something awaited Hexxat at Dragomir's tomb. The woman silently showed the group the way. It was, unsurprisingly, one of the ancient, luxurious mausoleums. Once inside, Hexxat walked without a care, moving so fast that Cat feared they would lose her in the barely lit passages inside the ancient, moldy stone tomb. It was a real labyrinth, with lots of twists and turns, but Hexxat grew more anxious the more they advanced. She turned a corner and…

 

“Halt! I’m working on a trap here you _really_ don’t want to step on… wait, Cat?”

 

The witch rolled her eyes. Yoshimo was kneeling just a few steps ahead, with his picklocks in his hands, working on a complex mechanism like those Shantir loved to tamper with.

 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Cat demanded to know, crossing her arms in annoyance.

 

“I heard of treasures beyond imagining in these old tombs, so I came to investigate,” the bounty hunter shamelessly replied.

 

“You have been spying on me, haven't you?”

 

“Me? I’d never—”

 

“Have you?” Cat repeated, pulling out her dagger.

 

Yoshimo swallowed at the sight. He hadn't forgotten their first encounter.

 

“I-I saw you freeing the drow at the government district, then I heard you talk about a treasure in a tomb, so I got curious…”

 

Cat did not believe a single word of what Yoshimo said. However, he could be of use in a place like that. Hexxat was too anxious to get to the supposed treasure, and she was acting carelessly. Besides, if the bounty hunter was actually an agent of Irenicus like she suspected, it would be best to keep him close, at least until she managed to find out his true agenda. The witch sighed. She saw shadows of her tormentor everywhere, even in her dreams. Especially in her dreams. She still woke up covered in cold sweat, disoriented and wondering why she wasn't still in her old cell.

 

“Well, I guess we can go together and split the benefits,” she conceded, and proceeded to introduce the man to the rest of her group. Korgan glanced from the bounty hunter to Cat with widened eyes.

 

“Wait, why did ye call the Killer Witch 'Cat’?”

 

Before the mage could intervene, Viconia answered the dwarf's question.

 

“What? It’s her name. Did she never tell you?”

 

“That was supposed to be confidential information, but yes, that’s my real name, Korgan,” Cat replied, glaring at the amused and surprised priestess.

 

There was silence for a moment.

 

Then, Korgan burst into uncontrollable laughter.

 

“Pfff… and to think ye be the one all the thugs in the slums are so afraid of… a little kitty! I’ll call ye Kitty from now on!”

 

“Don’t,” Cat grated her teeth as she glared at a definitely amused Viconia.

 

“Come on, Kitty, do nae be like the boring, pompous noble ladies we just killed today!” Korgan insisted, bending over while he cackled.

 

Groaning, Cat turned to Yoshimo.

 

“Are you done yet? I’d really love to keep going.”

 

Yoshimo’s broad smile showed a few gold teeth. With a precise movement, he finished dismantling whatever death trap he had found and jumped back to his feet.

 

“It is done! Now follow me and step where I step!”

 

“No, not that way,” Hexxat complained, her voice and expression as hazy as usual. “Over here.”

 

She pushed a wall that turned out to be a secret door. Before she could go inside, Yoshimo grabbed her arm and signalled yet another trap that he quickly got to disarming. Inside the room, there were two tombs covered in dust and cobwebs. Hexxat practically lunged herself towards the first… only to be attacked by wights coming from the other tomb.

 

“Shit,” Cat muttered. “Viconia, cast those bastards away!”

 

The priestess tried to turn the spectres with her holy symbol, but they didn't back off. Hexxat defended herself with her dagger while Korgan and Dorn were quick to assist her. Cat sent swarm after swarm of magic missiles as Viconia invoked the holy might of Shar once more, in order to join the battle. Though the wights were incorporeal; physical, enchanted weapons seemed to be enough to fend them off. Which was why Yoshimo and his regular katana stayed back, safe next to Cat, and let the others do the job. Fortunately, no one got their energy drained; Viconia could only use her restoration spell once per day, and it absolutely exhausted her. So in a place full of undead, it became crucial to ensure she was in good shape.

 

Once the threat was defeated, Hexxat opened the tomb she had thrown herself to. She became more restless by the minute.

 

“So is that your tomb?” Cat casually asked, trying to break the ice with the mysterious thief.

 

“Not MY tomb. Dragomir's,” she replied mechanically. “You have to get inside. The key is inside.”

 

“Gettin’ in a tomb? Like hell I am!” Korgan complained.

 

“Friend Korgan, you are truly a paragon of dwarven ill humor,” Yoshimo commented. “Can you find no joy in being alive? The smell of the morning dew and the feel of the free air?”

 

The berserker sent the bounty hunter what Cat considered the mother of all death glares. It would have earned him her respect, hadn't he just teased her about her name. She was definitely not going to tell him it was actually a diminutive of “Cattleya”.

 

“Aye, I find pleasure in the feel of an inquisitive thief’s neck bone breakin’ between me hands.”

 

Yes, she definitely could respect him. But he’d better not tease her again.

 

*~*~*

 

“They could write a book about you,” Yoshimo joked, against his best judgement. “‘Irritable Dwarven Responses’, they’d call it. It would be a bestseller amongst the smelly-old-drunk market. What say you?”

 

“Mayhaps ye should, only ‘Pleasures of the Dwarven Bedchamber’ is a more pleasing and accurate subject,” Korgan retorted, with a hint of humor in his voice.

 

“Ho! Is it, now?” The thief chuckled. “How about ‘The Unbathed Adventurer: Travels with Korgan’?”

 

Korgan frowned and took a moment to smell his armpit, not bothering to do so subtly.

 

“Worry not, thief,” Korgan finally answered. “There’s naught wrong with yer idea that a sharp blow to yer idiot skull wouldn’t fix. Here is yer title, and argue with me gauntlet if ye dare: ‘Tall-Folk Scourge: Yoshimo Beware!’ Now shut yer mouth and get to writing.”

 

Yoshimo was about to reply when he noticed something.

 

“Where are the others?”

 

Hexxat tried to climb into the tomb, but a pulse of energy pushed her away, making her hit the floor. She got back up, unfazed.

 

“I can’t. You go.”

 

“Like hell I’m gonna…”

 

“THE THREE OF YOU GET YOUR ASSES DOWN HERE BEFORE I GO UP THERE AND FRY THEM!” Cat’s voice came from the depths.

 

“Better be goin’,” Korgan muttered as he obeyed, annoyed at being bossed around by the witch, but genuinely worried about the very real possibility of being fried alive by her.

 

Yoshimo just shrugged and followed.

* * *

Humming, Cat took the rod from its guard’s dead hands as Viconia healed the party’s wounds.

 

“So you’re telling me an energy field prevented Hexxat from coming here?” She asked the two men who were the last to go in her aid.

 

“Aye,” Korgan replied. “It pushed her away like a gush of wind.”

 

“Hmm. Strange,” Cat rubbed her chin with her hands. She had the theory that the thief had stolen something from that grave and had now been cursed, so she came to return the item. Maybe that flashy jade necklace she wore… Whatever the case, she really hoped the treasure was worth it.

 

Outside the tomb, Hexxat was calmly waiting for the rest of the group to arrive.

 

“You have the rod. Good. Now we go back to open the passage.”

 

Hexxat led the way back to the entrance of the tomb. Indeed, on a side wall there was a hole which appeared to have the same depth as the rod. Hexxat plugged it in… and the entrance door closed.

 

“What the Hells, Hexxat? You've trapped us!” Cat exclaimed.

 

“If we remove the rod, we can go back,” she explained. “One door opens, but another must close. She must be awakened. We must fight him to get to the treasure.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Cat asked, gathering all of her patience. She knew Hexxat was not feeling well and that she needed help, but she was giving her more trouble than anything else.

 

“Dragomir. We must fight him and get his cape.”

 

Cat blinked.

 

“Waaaait just a second. You mean Dragomir the Red?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The vampire?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You want us to fight him?”

 

“It’s the only way to awaken her.”

 

Aware that she should ask who was “her”, Cat turned to the rest of the group.

 

“Have you heard that, everyone? We’re going vampire hunting!”

 

Viconia rolled her eyes.

 

“I’ll make sure to have all the protections ready.”

 

* * *

“Who dares to disturb my rest?” Dragomir’s voice boomed across his crypt. He was quite tall and slender, his unnaturally pale face oddly aesthetic, with delicate yet sharp features and extremely long fangs.

 

“It’s Cat and friends,” Cat replied with a charming smile.

 

“Why have you come to this place?” The vampire demanded, visibly upset by the intrusion.

 

Cat shrugged.

 

“Well, I try to have at least three crazy, possibly terrible ideas each day. You would make the second one… I think. Does the wedding count as a terrible idea?” She asked her companions.

 

Dragomir hissed, baring his very sharp fangs. Cat wondered if it was normal that she kind of found the gesture attractive.

 

“You will die for your insolence!”

 

Cat felt the push against her mind. Ironically, Dragomir didn't feel nearly as cold as Irenicus, and he was much easier to fend off.

 

“Korgan, Dorn, go,” she said as she let out magic missiles from her fingers, aimed at the vampire’s face.

 

While Dragomir covered his visage, harmed by the light of the projectiles, Dorn and Korgan attacked. He tried to avoid them both, but Dorn was able to cut through his side. No blood poured out, but his greatsword left a deep gash on the vampire's flesh that made him wince in pain. In the meantime, Korgan chopped one of his legs clean with his axe, making the undead lose his balance and stumble. Yoshimo and Hexxat hid in the shadows to try and strike by surprise, but Dragomir felt the former’s presence and assaulted his mind. The thief, dominated by the vampire, turned against Hexxat, who had to do a backflip to avoid the hit of the bounty hunter's katana. Cat and Viconia were quick to cast dispelling magic to drive Dragomir's influence off Yoshimo's mind while Hexxat kept defending herself as best as she could. However, dominating a mind and fending off two powerful warriors while trying to prevent two magic users from undoing his spells proved to be too much multitasking for Dragomir the Red, and while he was distracted trying to counter Viconia's magic and avoid Korgan’s axe by jumping with just one leg –somewhat gracefully, despite the circumstances–, Dorn did one of his favorite things in the world; he beheaded his enemy, who turned into ashes.

 

“Hah! Take that, dwarf! This one’s mine!”

 

“I did half the work, ye cheeky bastard! I say he’s half yours and half mine!”

 

“Why don’t you just take equal portions of his ashes in a bottle, if you want to keep him so badly?” Cat rolled her eyes as she finally managed to break Dragomir's domination over Yoshimo.

 

After the thief apologized profusely when he found himself with the edge of his katana pressed against Hexxat's neck, the woman walked towards a pathway that led further inside the crypt, not bothering to address the other thief. Cat took Dragomir's ragged midnight blue cape and followed the woman, while Korgan cackled and took as many gems from the vampire's tomb as he could carry. The adventure was, indeed, turning out to be quite profitable. The group followed the pathway until they encountered an energy barrier that undulated in multiple shades of colors that should not exist combined together. Cat remembered the fires of Avernus. She had a bad feeling about whatever was to come. Hexxat, however, crossed the barrier and reached the other side unharmed. When Cat tried to follow, she hit the barrier like it was a stone wall. She rubbed her sore forehead and stared questioningly at the thief.

 

“From this point on, I walk alone,” Hexxat announced. “Only those with a single purpose in mind may cross. I must awaken her.”

 

From the other side, Cat could make out another stone tomb, somewhat smaller, like a coffin. She turned to Viconia.

 

“Can’t you do anything about this?”

 

The priestess took a good look at the barrier, touched it and murmured some words. Facing Cat again, she shook her head.

 

“This barrier was created to contain something… or rather, someone,” she explained as she peered at the tomb Hexxat was opening. “I think it will only fall down when Hexxat opens that tomb.”

 

 _That's what worries me,_ Cat thought as the thief managed to push the heavy stone cover open.

 

A slender, dark-skinned hand emerged from the tomb, holding onto the stone. A striking Chultan woman dressed in black leather pants and shirt followed. She gracefully slid out of her tomb and walked towards Hexxat, whose eyes grew big with fear. The vampire took a strand of the thief's dark hair and placed it behind her ear in an almost loving gesture.

 

“I did what you wanted!” Hexxat begged. “Please!”

 

The vampire spoke for the first time.

 

“I’m sorry, Clara,” she sighed. “This is the only way.”

 

 _Clara?_ Cat thought.

 

With unbelievable speed, the vampire grabbed Hexxat’s –or Clara’s?– shoulders, pulled her close and sank her fangs deep in the woman's neck. Her arms flailed, trying to get rid of the undead’s iron grip, but it was to no avail. She soon became weaker and stopped fighting, her skin becoming even paler than before. When the vampire was done, she took the amulet the thief had worn the whole time and put it on, letting the dead body of her prey hit the floor. She did it all in a calm, leisurely fashion, as if there weren't five flabbergasted adventurers staring at her in utter shock. Cat was the first to react, and the vampire noticed her move as soon as she saw the light of her flame arrow. Like Viconia had predicted, the magical barrier let everyone through once the vampire was fred from her containment.

 

“Okay, bloodsucker, you and I are about to have a veeeery long talk,” Cat spat, putting all of the invasive rage she felt in her words.

 

“I do not wish to fight you,” the vampire replied. “In fact, I am impressed. Your presence here confirms that you have dealt with Dragomir. Clara was right to pick your assistance.”

 

“Why do you call her Clara? Her name was Hexxat,” Cat demanded to know, unsure why that mattered, why the thief's death mattered or why anything at all mattered.

 

“She spoke the words I forced onto her lips while she was under my spell,” the vampire explained. “The thief's name was Clara. The real Hexxat is here before you.”

 

“Well then, Hexxat,” Cat replied, her spell still active and ready to be set off. “I am one woman down, so one way or another, you will have to answer to that.”

 

“I am a rather accomplished thief, myself,” the vampire provided. “I could work for you, if you wish, but you must know something first: there is _nothing_ I wouldn't do to survive. Nothing. Poor Clara here is proof of that. Do you understand?”

 

Cat nodded, letting the flame arrow dissolve into thin air as she somewhat managed to reign in her rage. Survival she could understand, after all.

 

“We are on the same page, then,” she replied. “My name’s Cat. I am searching for a mage named Irenicus. He has a friend of mine captive, and I will do whatever it takes to free her and defeat him.”

 

Hexxat tilted her head to the side with a half smile.

 

“Interesting. I get the feeling I won't get bored with you. Now, the cape, please. I will give you something in return.”

 

“I hope it's not a love bite,” Cat teased, her eyes darting to Clara’s dead body as she handed the vampire Dragomir's cape.

 

In exchange, Hexxat gave her an old, moldy bag. Cat took a peek inside. There was… a coffin?

 

“It’s Dragomir's Respite,” Hexxat explained. “He used this bag of holding to carry his coffin to regenerate more quickly and safely if he was defeated in battle. I hope you understand I am entrusting you with my only means of survival, and the trust it takes for me to do so.”

 

“Of course I do,” Cat scoffed, “and I guess it’s not just in exchange for an old cape.”

 

Hexxat grinned, showing her long, pointy fangs.

 

“I actually have another employer. Goes by the name of 'L’. They may give me tasks to do from time to time… tasks you could be of great help with.”

 

“Well, what’s a few more favors to return?” Cat sighed. “Alright, welcome to the team, Hexxat.”

 

The vampire nodded and put the cape around her shoulders, covering her face with the hood. As soon as she did, she bent over with a groan.

 

“Hey, are you alright?” Cat asked, alarmed. She was not in the mood for more surprises.

 

“Yes, it’s just…” Hexxat took a moment to regain her breath, and rose back. With the cape, she looked somehow different, more… mundane, as if under a glamour spell, but Cat knew there was something else to it. “This cape allows me to walk under the sunlight, but it also weakens me. I didn't expect it would be this much. It will take me a bit to get used to it.”

 

“Well, in the meantime, we have a lot to do, so let’s go,” Cat replied, casting one last glance at Clara’s body.

 

_Trust nobody._

* * *

Back at the entrance of the tomb, Cat took out the iron rod that opened the section where Hexxat had been “sleeping”. The door to the surface opened once more, and the group was heading to it when the vampire froze as she walked past the rod hole. A blinding light appeared before them, and she screamed in pain, while Viconia covered her eyes with an anguished wail. Yoshimo's eyes widened.

 

“That trap… it wasn't there before... or rather, it wasn't active before. I can only guess it went off when it detected Hexxat's presence."

 

Hexxat panted as she retreated towards the exit.

 

“A false dawn trap,” she hissed. “I should have expected as much. It is fortunate that I was wearing the cloak of Dragomir already; I would have surely been turned to ashes otherwise.”

 

Realization hit Cat like a brick. She involuntarily let out a chuckle.

 

“Of course… To think the answers I’ve been looking for were right in front of my nose! Viconia, you can communicate with the dead, can’t you?”

 

“Well… yes, but it is much more convenient if I have the body available,” the priestess replied, arching an eyebrow upon the sudden and strange question.

 

“All the better!” Cat clapped her hands and hummed to herself as she pulled the iron rod from its hole again.

 

“What are ye doin’, Kitty? Ye’re trappin’ us in here again!” Korgan protested.

 

“We need to go back for a moment,” Cat explained as she began to walk. “I have a few theories about Clara and that trap… and I’d like to check if I’m right.”

 

Clara’s body was running cold from the lack of blood. Her face was even paler than when Hexxat bit her, if that was even possible. Viconia approached the body and murmured a prayer. Korgan spat a curse and brought his hand to the handle of his axe as Clara’s body began to shake and stumble, as if trying to remember how to get back on her feet. Her arms hanged at strange angles, as if she had forgotten how they worked, and her face showed what could only be considered a diabolical grin. She was staring at Hexxat unblinkingly, and she stared right back, immutable. Cat placed a hand on Viconia's shoulder.

 

“Will her answers be truthful?” She asked.

 

Viconia nodded, not breaking eye contact with Clara for a single moment.

 

“As long as she remains under my control, she is forced to speak only the truth,” the priestess explained.

 

“Hexxat,” the undead woman drawled. Why did all the cadaverous undead speak so slowly? “You bitch. I was hoping you would roast to ashes with the little surprise I left you. I’m so disappointed.”

 

“Trust me, vampire or not, you don’t get to live as long as me without learning to be cautious,” Hexxat replied, serious. “I apologize again, Clara. It was nothing personal. You came to the wrong place, at the wrong time.”

 

“Oh, no, I _was_ at the right place, off to killing vampire scum! If I hadn't lost my spike searching for the likes of you at other tombs, things would have been much different!” Clara spat, hatred evident in her eyes.

 

Every word the raised thief said spoke volumes of what Cat needed to know, but she still decided to ask. One could never be too careful.

 

“Clara, answer me. Did you build the false dawn trap you were hoping would kill Hexxat?”

 

Suddenly, the woman turned her attention to the witch. She smiled that sinister smile of hers before replying.

 

“I remember you, Bhaalspawn,” she chuckled. “You had a Baldurian Shadow Thief breaking you out of the Flaming Fist prison while I was left there to rot. Had to break myself out, I had.”

 

Cat narrowed her eyes. She did remember a woman complaining about being left behind, but at the moment she was too busy worrying about the Flaming Fists supposedly about to burst in to pay too much attention.

 

“As for your question,” Clara continued, “yes, I built and set the trap. Pretty, wasn't it, you filthy traitor?”

 

“Whoa, what are you on about?” Cat retorted, offended by the undead's sudden accusation.

 

“The Shadow Thieves aided you twice back in Baldur's Gate, and how do you repay our organization?” She pointed at Hexxat. “By allying with vampire scum!”

 

“I think you got it wrong, Clara. Hexxat is not in the vampire guild,” Cat replied, cold as the dead thief. “And the Athkatlan Shadow Thieves used to be associated with an enemy of mine. Does the name Irenicus ring a bell to you?”

 

Clara broke into laughter. It was a cold, dead sound, devoid of any actual emotion, safe for spite, perhaps.

 

“As if we had a choice! He offered us big money for keeping him hidden and doing the dirty work for him. We owned this city… until he found himself better employees.”

 

“The vampires,” Cat whispered.

 

“Even after his betrayal, we still had an enormous influence in the city,” Clara went on, “but the damned vampires were putting it at risk. So our leader gathered the best at setting snares to work on a special surprise for the bloodsuckers.”

 

“The false dawn trap,” Cat concluded for her.

 

Clara nodded.

 

“Could you give me the exact details of its construction?”

 

“Cat, I can’t hold her for so long,” Viconia warned the mage.

 

“Alright,” the woman sighed. “Can we extract and transport the trap to inspect it?”

 

“Sure, any thief who knows what they're doing, or pretty much anyone with knowledge about mechanics, can take it elsewhere and figure out how it works,” Clara shrugged.

 

That was it. The key she had been looking for. The spark that would ignite the fire of war between the two guilds. The Shadow Thieves were too scared to make an actual move just yet –Cat suspected they were waiting for her to come around and help–, but the vampires believed in their superiority. All she had to do was to set some of those little things around the city so they'd decide to take the initiative. And a blessed, bloody massacre would follow.

 

“Thank you, Clara. You have helped a lot. You may rest now.”

 

Clara waved mockingly.

 

“See you all in the Nine Hells,” she said.

 

With a quick prayer, Viconia ended the spell and Clara’s body fell back to the ground, completely lifeless once more. Cat was grinning from ear to ear. Finally, after so much time of careful plotting, she would get what she wanted. Athkatla would be bathed in the blood of its rulers, organization after organization, and in the end, not only the meek and the impoverished would call her their Lady. In the end, she would have a whole city of worshippers waiting for her ascension to come. And, who knew? Perhaps the belief would spread throughout Amn even before she managed to ascend.

 

“Well, let’s go find your book, Korgan,” she cheerily commanded. “Yoshimo, you will deal with the trap. I don’t want to risk getting Hexxat hurt again.”

 

“About damned time, Kitty,” the dwarf mumbled, staring warily at Clara’s corpse, his hand still gripping his axe, just in case. “I hate the fuckin’ undead. No offense, Hexxat.”

 

“Trust me, it takes more than that to offend me, otherwise you’d be dead by now,” she replied with a smile.

 

“Ha! I like this one undead!” The berserker laughed as the group abandoned the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little piece at the beginning is from Rise by Jonas Blue and Jack & Jack. Lately I'm turning to different kinds of music and sometimes I find songs that fit the chapters in odd ways. In this one, people are kind of right to think Cat and her gang are savages, heh...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's been really fun to write, even with the most gruesome parts -I mean, it's a group of evil characters doing evil deeds, things ARE going to get ugly, at least to some extent. Please do tell me your thoughts on this one, it gives me life when my readers interact with me, and it drives me to improve and keep going.
> 
> Also, I am aware I owe you a celebration gift for the former part of this series reaching 200 views. I should update it later this week. I shall also work on a little something to celebrate THIS story has surpassed 100 views. I am SO happy I can barely believe it. Knowing I've managed to reach so much people... it really makes me feel fulfilled, so I wish to thank all of you. I hope you will continue this journey with me. I love you all!


	6. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even so long after she escaped Irenicus' dungeon, Cat has to deal with the aftermath of what she's been through. Dorn tries to be there for her, but he has problems of his own he is unable, or unwilling, to acknowledge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! Sorry I made you wait, I went crazy during the proofreading process -and I spent last weekend away, which didn't help either. I really hope you like this one; it features Dorn's first romance dialogue. Also, for the next chapter, do bear in mind that I'm playing his romance mod.

 

_Thought I found a way_

_Thought I found a way out_

_But you never go away_

_So I guess I gotta stay now_

_Walking out of time_

_Looking for a better place_

_Something's on my mind_

_Always in my head space_

_Oh, I hope some day I'll make it out of here_

_Even if it takes all night or a hundred years_

_Need a place to hide, but I can't find one near_

_Wanna feel alive, outside I can't fight my fear_

_Isn't it lovely, all alone?_

_Heart made of glass, my mind of stone_

_Tear me to pieces, skin to bone_

_Hello, welcome home_

 

 

* * *

 

Dorn awoke to the sound of a blood curdling scream. He recognized the voice.

 

_ Cat… That damned vampire!  _ He thought as he grabbed his sword and hurried out of his tent.

 

Just as he feared, the thief was not at her guarding spot. Since she didn't need to sleep, she had volunteered to guard their camp when Cat, out of spells and tired of killing all sorts of undead things while looking for Korgan's book, had insisted on resting inside the massive tomb. Dorn rushed to Cat's tent, and found the vampire sitting beside her. He quickly pressed the edge of his sword to the undead woman's neck.

 

“I’m warning you, Hexxat. Get away from her or I will tear you to pieces,” the blackguard growled.

 

The woman didn't move a muscle.

 

“Dorn, don’t,” Cat's voice pleaded from behind the woman. “She just… heard me and came to see if I was alright.”

 

The half-orc immediately knelt in front of the witch. He didn't release the hold on his greatsword, though it no longer pointed at Hexxat's neck. Cat was trying to contain herself from breaking into sobs, tears streamed down her face as she hugged her knees, shaking like a leaf.

 

“What happened?” Dorn asked with concern. He had never seen her like that.

 

“Imoen… He has Imoen… Candlekeep… it was dissolving…”

 

Dorn sent Hexxat a dark stare.

 

“Go keep watch. I will take care of this.”

 

“I don’t take orders from someone who just put a sword to my neck,” the vampire spat, glaring at the half-orc.

 

“It's okay, Hexxat,” Cat managed to say, with a weak smile. “Go keep watch.”

 

The woman rose and left the tent, albeit hesitating. Cat sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.

 

“You shouldn't have attacked her.”

 

“You put a vampire on watch, one you know nothing about except for the fact that she sucks the blood of those she deems expendable and claims she will do anything to survive. And you expect me to trust her?” Dorn barked in response.

 

“Trust no one…” Cat muttered, and hugged her knees tighter.

 

“Cat,” Dorn called her, using a softer tone. “What happened? Was it a nightmare?”

 

She shook her head with energy. During the whole time he had been in the tent, she hadn't met his eyes.

 

“Irenicus said I summoned them into my dream…” she began, eyes still fixed on the floor. “He… he probably connected our minds so he can keep track of me through our dreams.”

 

“What did you see? What happened to Imoen?” Dorn asked. He felt no affection towards the irritating brat, but she was Cat's friend, someone important to her, and the witch had made it very clear that rescuing her was her top priority at the moment.

 

Cat made a choking sound. She covered her mouth, trying to repress any sobs. She trembled violently, like the branch of a willow tree in the wake of a hurricane. Dorn felt the impulse to grab her and hold her close, anything to spare her the suffering… but then what? His hands were tied, he couldn't promise to be by her side for the whole of those dark times, not while his patron kept becoming more and more demanding. Just like when he departed from her side at Baldur's Gate, he felt torn. So instead, he spoke again.

 

“You don’t need to speak any longer if you don't wish to.”

 

Cat shook her head again.

 

“We were in Candlekeep, but… there were bits missing, with just a dark void left behind. Imoen told me she wished we never left, and… that she was beginning to forget. I guess that's what caused the empty spaces,” she let out a nervous laugh. “She couldn't remember Elminster or Tethtoril, she couldn't even remember Gorion… or Sarevok.”

 

She paused to take a labored breath. Dorn waited, not wanting to put her under pressure.

 

“And then… then  _ he  _ appeared. First he taunted me with his weird obsession with ‘releasing my full potential’ like he did in his dungeon whenever he came to torture me. Then he said Imoen was resisting, but that she would crumble in the end. And he… he made me watch as he tortured her with magic,” Cat seemed to be losing any speck of control as she became unable to keep fighting the sobs and tears. “He’s corrupting her memory, erasing it! I think he wants to turn her into his apprentice, or…”

 

She didn't finish the sentence, but hid her face between her knees instead. She couldn't hide her fear from Dorn, however. Not fear for her own sake, but for Imoen's. He did not know what the pair had endured in the mage's dungeon, but the aftermath was plain to see. He would not let such pain go unpunished. But how to do so when Cat, who was the one who should exact revenge, laid broken like that? He was born for warring and destroying, he did not know how to mend or repair, but if he didn't do something, the woman would wind up destroying herself; drowning in agony. Slowly, he scooted closer to the mage and pushed a few strands of black hair behind her ear, to try and reveal her face. She flinched at the contact, but her trembling somewhat receded.

 

“Cat,” he called. “Look at me.”

 

The witch dried her face with the sheets of her bedroll before making eye contact with Dorn. The tiredness of her gaze startled him. Even though she had been trying to hide it behind her usual boisterousness and a brand new fierceness in battle, her stay in that dungeon had left a deep mark in her. He remembered his own imprisonment in Luskan; the humiliation, the rage… if that had been enough to catch Ur-Gothoz’ eye, what could she have possibly endured to change in the way she had? Her awareness of her surroundings while in deep concentration had improved significantly, and she was rarely caught off-guard anymore. Quite the contrary, she never seemed to lower it, and looked ready to fight whoever and whatever, at any time, anywhere, anyhow. She had described foreign feelings of rage amplifying her own and replacing other parts of herself that her captor did not deem desirable. She mentioned Irenicus wanted her to achieve the peak of her potential… then why would he want Imoen, and not Cat, as his apprentice?

 

“You believe Irenicus wants to turn Imoen into his apprentice. What else were you about to say?”

 

Before she could look away, he held the sides of her head with his hands, inching closer to her and letting his forehead rest against hers. He should not allow himself such indulgence, but he could not bear the sight of the once invincible woman breaking down like that. She  _ wouldn't  _ break. Not if he had a say in the matter.

 

“Cat, I wish to help you, but you have to tell me. You have to trust me,” he whispered, trying not to let those green eyes put him under their spell, however reddened and swollen from crying.

 

“Trust no one, I can trust no one,” she said in a rushed mumble, trying to get Dorn's hands off her face. “I saw you kill me, he showed me, he…”

 

Cat’s face fell into a frown. Dorn let go of her and she let her arms hang, lifeless. She had told him Irenicus had messed with her mind… could it be that he showed her fake images and illusions for long enough that she believed them?

 

“That bastard… sometimes I forget,” she sighed. “He did me the courtesy of not erasing my emotions, my… feelings for the people I care about, not that the list is too extensive,” she let out a dark, bitter chuckle. “He’s shown me Imoen backstabbing me and you beheading me enough times for me to believe it was real at times. He meant it as a lesson of how those you care about always end up betraying you, and that I should trust no one.”

 

“I suppose there is a point to what he says,” Dorn admitted with some regret, remembering how his own “friends” betrayed him and sent him into the downward spiral he was currently trapped in. “But you cannot let that blind you. I told you some time ago, trust people's actions, not words. You know I would never harm you.”

 

“I know. It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

 

For a short while, neither moved. Dorn was tempted to hold her, kiss her, do whatever it took to show her how real he was… but not like that. Not while she was in such a fragile state. Deep down, he knew he wouldn't be doing those things to help her, but to sate his own selfish desires. And in that moment, she was in no condition to undergo something like that.

 

“Will you trust me?” He asked instead.

 

“I will,” she replied in a soft whisper, after a moment of silence.

 

“Then tell me. I need to know as much as possible if I am to aid you rescue Imoen.”

 

Cat took a deep breath. She was calmer now.

 

“My other hypothesis is that he wants to turn her into his new… mistress,” she scrunched her nose in disgust when saying that last word. “There was once a woman he loved, who loved him back until one day she hated him. Probably just saw his true colors. The case is, he hated her for a time, but now… he feels nothing. It’s like he’s dead inside. He tried cloning this woman, but the copies were always flawed in one way or another… or even self-aware. We actually had to fight one during our escape, there was no convincing her that we were not to harm her. However, after his cloning experiment failed, he captured three dryads, perhaps hoping that their natural charm would get his dead cock up.”

 

Dorn saw it again. The rage. She balled her fists and spat her next words like curses.

 

“But they didn't work, either. In the end, he noticed my eyes were the same color as his mistress’, and that I was pretty… in fact, he healed all the scars he left on me because he wanted to keep me beautiful.”

 

“Cat, did he—?”

 

“No, not me,” she interrupted the blackguard before he could formulate the doubt he feared to clear out. Now, utter and pure hatred spewed from her voice. “He feared it would hinder my progress and prevent me from reaching my full potential… so he used Imoen instead.”

 

Then, Dorn understood. Her fear, her hatred, the sense of urgency whenever she spoke of her childhood friend. Knowing she was in his enemy's clutches, torturing her and wiping her memories… of course it would make her fall apart.

 

“Cat, we are going to punish that man, but you mustn’t rush to his encounter,” he warned her. “I fear he might be setting a trap for you. After all, it is you he has haunted throughout our march to Dragonspear Castle.”

 

“Of course he is setting a trap—wait a minute,” the witch rubbed her temples and frowned, trying to focus on something. “That bastard!”

 

“What is it?” Dorn asked with urgency.

 

“I remember he stalked me then… but I can't recall a single conversation with him. There must be a reason for him to have erased them.”

 

Recovering the determined look in her eyes, Cat placed a hand on Dorn's shoulder.

 

“I need you to help me remember. Tell me anything that comes to your mind about our encounters with him.”

 

“He used to taunt you, tell you that you weren't embracing your heritage properly while Caelar Argent did,” Dorn began.

 

Cat snorted.

 

“Sure, like he has any idea of how to claim it… wait—wait, I remember that.”

 

Dorn allowed the witch to catch up with the newfound memory. She was still frowning, and her eyes were closed.

 

“He said he couldn't make up his mind over choosing Caelar or me… but, for what?” Cat muttered. “Is there anything else you remember, Dorn?”

 

“Now that you mention it, he appeared when you fainted at Boareskyr Bridge.”

 

“Ah, yes, a most embarrassing moment,” Cat laughed, probably recalling the vision of her father's murder.

 

Seeing that she was still able to laugh and joke calmed Dorn a great deal. She wasn't completely lost after all.

 

“He questioned you about the vision you had, the one of Bhaal’s death.”

 

Cat nodded.

 

“I remember the vision, and him urging me to tell him about it… but not what he said next.”

 

“I do.”

 

Cat turned to Dorn, eyes full of interest. Truthfully, the mage's words had hit him, and he would not forget them soon.

 

“I found it curious at the time,” he confessed with a huff. It wasn't a pleasant memory for him. “He said exactly the same thing you did while you were under the taint’s influence at Bridgefort. 'Power is nothing without control’.”

 

Cat shivered at the memory. She remembered, too.

 

“Yes, he said the same when he came to visit me at the Flaming Fist prison.”

 

“He went to visit you?” Dorn asked, eyes widened in surprise by the revelation.

 

“He wanted to make sure I didn't remember what had truly happened to Skie,” a wild smile crossed the mage's features, and for a moment she looked just the same before Irenicus broke her mind, “but I remembered. I still remember. I already told you; he can dig as many holes in my mind as he wishes, but complete memory erasure is impossible to achieve. The imprint of the memory always remains; hiding, waiting. Nothing is ever really forgotten.”

 

“Then that means we can restore Imoen's memory once we find her,” Dorn ventured. He really didn't want Cat to drive herself and her allies into a trap, especially not after what that wretched mage had already done to her.

 

“Yes,” at that point, she was smiling wholeheartedly. It was relieving to see her slowly going back into her old self. “But first, I must remember. Is there anything else I should know?”

 

Dorn thought for a moment. Yes, that time at Boareskyr Bridge, the hooded man who turned to be the mad mage Irenicus had been really insistent in learning about Cat’s divine power… and offering to teaching her about how to use it, in return. He remembered the wizard had managed to pick her curiosity, though she did not trust him in the slightest. As usual, she had made the smartest choice. Just then, there was something Irenicus said that came to the blackguard's mind. That was it. That had to be the reason why he had been searching for her, and then torturing and experimenting on her.

 

“He said that your power, your essence, could either be contained or extracted,” he told the witch. “Cat, that must be why he wants you to achieve your full potential.”

 

“He wants my Bhaalspawn powers?” Cat scratched her chin, lost in thought. “Then Imoen… he must have taken her as bait. But why? He is already powerful enough to take down four squads of Cowled Wizards. Why would he need my power?”

 

“Don’t you see it?” Dorn questioned the woman, unable to believe she did not understand. “You are a half-goddess, Cat. Anyone who thirsts for power would want what you were born with.”

 

“You would know that, wouldn't you?” Cat drawled as she slipped back into her bedroll.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dorn asked, indignant.

 

Cat just smirked at him in response as she pulled the covers over herself.

 

“You want power, too. I can't help but wonder… do you perhaps expect to gain it from me?”

 

“You just said you would trust me, Cat! What kind of game is this?” The blackguard shot back, enraged by the fact that she would suggest such a thing.

 

“I do trust you. That's exactly the point,” she replied, with a smile that hid untold secrets.

 

“What are you on about? Speak clearly, witch!” Dorn complained, tired of those mind games of hers.

 

Cat’s grin only grew in size and mischief.

 

“Oh, I think I won't,” she said as she closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands, with her fingers laced together. “I’ll let you figure it out on your own. Now, unless you want to cuddle, please leave me be. I really need some sleep.”

 

The blackguard groaned with irritation as he got up to leave the accursed witch’s tent. Just as he was about to part the entrance, her voice stopped him once more.

 

“Hey, Dorn? Thank you for showing up. You have helped a lot, and I won't forget it.”

 

He let out a low grunt in acknowledgement of her words and left her to sleep, hoping to get some rest himself.

* * *

After fighting all sorts of undead monsters –mummies were especially abundant– and getting the group's hands full with all kinds of treasure in the form of jewels and charms, Korgan blared that the tome he was seeking wasn't there, and that someone had been quicker than them. The dwarf urged everyone to go to the original buyer’s house at the temple district, so he could “find the goatfuckers who betrayed him and take the book before they could”.

 

“Honestly, what were you expecting?” Dorn asked the man. “If you trust others not to betray you when doing your work for you, most of the time you are going to be very disappointed.”

 

Korgan glared at the half-orc.

 

“Aye, ye’re right, that’s why we’re goin’ to butcher them as soon as we’re done with Pimlico,” he grumbled grimly as he undid the path to the desecrated tomb.

 

“That is good to hear. I see there was a good reason why Cat brought you along after all,” Dorn replied with approval.

 

After a rushed visit to the temple district –Cat wanted to avoid running into Anomen at all costs–, they found Pimlico’s house… all trashed, as if a fight had just taken place. Korgan inspected the bedroom, where the butchered remains of the book collector and his family laid sprawled on the blood covered floor. Whoever did that had undoubtedly enjoyed it, Cat thought.

 

“This looks like Shagbag’s business,” Korgan provided, then spat on the floor, hitting one of the victims’ removed eyeball. That time, Cat didn't scold him out of wonder at his surprisingly good aim. “They looted all the place, too. Those scumbags are probably spending all the money on a feast at the Copper Coronet.”

 

“Yes, I remember kicking you all out and sending you to the roof because you wouldn't fucking stop spitting on the floor and harassing the waitresses,” Cat drawled, glaring at the dwarf.

 

“A killjoy is what ye be, Kitty,” he muttered. “So, we’re going to kill my friends or what?”

 

Cat smiled and drew her dagger.

 

“Tell me a bit about them on the way. I think I have a plan.”

 

* * *

Just as predicted, Shagbag and his companions were enjoying ludicrous amounts of ale on the roof of the Copper Coronet. Korgan already had a hand on his axe. Cat placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Remember the plan,” she reminded him with a serious tone.

 

“Aye, aye, just lemme do the talking. I’ve got some things to say,” he replied as he moved closer to the group. “Shagbag, ye snake!”

 

The group of thugs enjoying their drinks looked up at the dwarf with surprise. The one called Shagbag, a well armored human fighter, stood up with a wide grin.

 

“Now look who’s back!” He sneered. “Hey there, Korgan, thanks for the round of drinks!”

 

“You stinkin’ bastards! I found ye the location of the book and ye take it fer yerselves!” The berserker roared.

 

“Oh, yeah, you found us the place and got us doing all the digging and the dirty work for you, the Hells did you expect, eh?” Shagbag barked back.

 

“Fer ye to do yer damn job! That's what mercenaries are supposed to be for, but ye’re all nothing but damned curs!” Korgan spat on the wooden floor and drew his axe before Cat could complain. “I’m tired of this shite. Let our weapons do the talkin’!”

 

Korgan's rage seemed to amuse Shagbag. He drew a long sword with a smile.

 

“If you and your new friends are so eager to die… then so be it.”

 

“Go!” Cat commanded.

 

Korgan and Dorn moved at top speed to catch the mage before he could damage the group with his inchantations. Viconia summoned the holy power of Shar and positioned herself right in front of Cat, with Hexxat and Yoshimo at each side, to protect her from the coming warriors. She was aware that arcane magic was strictly forbidden in Athkatla, and she was set to do something about it as soon as she could, but the Cowled Wizards said nothing about magic artifacts… like the wand of fear she pointed at Shagbag. Covered in the mage's blood from head to toe, Dorn and Korgan went after the thief who kept trying and failing to backstab their heavy armors. Axe and greatsword cut through flesh, spilling blood everywhere. Cat tried not to think of how hard all that mess would be to clean as she released the fear spell. The surviving members of Shagbag's company, including the fighter himself, screamed and tried to run away in a panic. Korgan took his throwing axes as Dorn drew and charged his crossbow.

 

“Not a chance, you fuckers!” Korgan bellowed as he threw an axe that cut one of the men’s foot. 

 

He tried to crawl away, but Hexxat caught up with him, and licking her lips, she yanked his hair back, exposing his jugular, and bit down hard. In the meantime, Viconia and Dorn shot their ammunition at the weaselier Shagbag, who kept running despite getting hit by Viconia in the head, and having one of Dorn's bolts stuck deep in his back, the crimson surrounding it showing it had effectively pierced his armor. During the confusion, Cat had moved places, no longer having to worry about her safety, and waved at the terrorized man friendly before sending a throwing dagger right to his knee. When he fell before her, she cradled his head with the sweetness of a mother, and revealed the dagger under her sleeve to slit his throat, giggling when the blood splattered over her face. Korgan rushed to the mage's side and registered Shagbag's body. With a triumphant smile that showed a few broken and rotten teeth, he retrieved the book of Kaza.

 

“Here it is, finally! Let’s sell it to someone, we’ll get a fortune out of this.”

 

A fortune… that sounded like music to Cat's ears.

* * *

The money the book of Kaza earned the group wasn't quite as much as Cat had hoped, but it truly improved her financial situation. In a better mood than she had been in a long time, she decided to invite her companions to the best the Copper Coronet offered; pasta and all sorts of ale, while she left to attend a few issues, the first being her prisoner. The poor thing was weeping and telling her all sorts of things about the false dawn trap, details she quickly scribbled down for Shantir to check later. The woman laid her hands on the man and used her Bhaalspawn powers to heal him, repairing the damage she had caused when she peeled off the skin of his chest. Then, she untied him from the iron cross with a sweet, kind smile. The idiot did not stop thanking her and promising no one would find out about what she had been up to. Of course, she already knew that. She led him to his exit, and waved as he crossed the door without bothering to read the panel hanging from it, or to take on his surroundings. Cat closed the door shut, and mere moments later, she heard Tabitha's unmistakable roar. She made a mental note to visit and cuddle her later.

 

Back at the tavern, she saw her companions having the time of their lives… or at least some of them were trying. Hexxat and Dorn sat in opposite directions and occasionally glared at each other, while Korgan bellowed all sorts of obscenities, and Yoshimo tried in vain to gain Viconia's attention with tales of his exploits while the priestess absentmindedly petted a cat who decided to sit on her lap as she sipped on her ale. Cat smiled from ear to ear and joined them.

 

“Well? How’s the party going?”

 

“It’d be better if ye still had the wenches,” Korgan complained rather loudly before gulping his sixth ale.

 

“Some of the former prostitutes are still willing to offer their services… if you ask them kindly and respectfully, and pay them what is due.”

 

“Bah! I still don’t get what was wrong with this place as it was,” the berserker mumbled, turning his mug upside down over his mouth to get the very last drop of liquor.

 

“Everything, Korgan!” Cat exploded. “The animals trapped in those tiny cages, the slaves, the fights for the entertainment of the rich! I put an end to all of that, but you can still get the thrills you seek for, only with someone actually willing to engage in them. So everything has improved! Now, Yoshimo, could you come with me for a second? Bring the false dawn trap with you. Hexxat, you too; there’s something I need to ask you.”

 

The thieves did as they were told, but Dorn stood and followed as well. Cat raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but said nothing on the matter. It seemed he had recovered his bodyguard complex… of perhaps it was because of the incident when she woke from her nightmare. She couldn't blame him for distrusting Hexxat after their first encounter, but she hoped he would be civilized. Otherwise, she’d have to have a very serious talk with him.

 

Cat knocked on Shantir's door. The woman's eyes lit up when she saw the mage.

 

“Killer Witch! What can I do for you?”

 

“We found it, Shantir,” Cat replied, a victory grin across her features, “we found a false dawn trap, and the damned Shadow Thief finally told me how to operate it.”

 

“Really?” The woman's dark eyes widened. “May I take a look at it?”

 

“But of course. Yoshimo, give her the trap.”

 

The thief complied. Shantir took the mechanism to her work table, which was full of tools and spare parts of all sorts, and immediately began to inspect it with an amplifying lens.

 

“The person who set it said it shouldn't be hard to figure out how it works and how to build more with a model in hand,” Cat explained as she gave Shantir the notes she took from the Shadow Thief she just fed to Tabitha. “So I am hopeful that with whatever you can make out by yourself and the information I just gathered, we’ll be able to begin producing them in a short term.”

 

Shantir took the notes, skimmed through them, and smiled.

 

“Yes, I should be able to make more of these beauties, but we’ll need to test them before setting them,” she explained.

 

“Let me guess, that’s why I’m here, right?”

 

Cat turned to Hexxat. She had her arms crossed and a deep frown in her pretty features.

 

“I was about to ask you to be our test subject… with the cloak on, of course,” Cat told her, feeling a little pang of remorse. She needed her companions’ trust if she was to succeed. “But I won't make you do it. I am asking for your consent. You have been welcomed here, and so I will ensure nothing bad happens to you. But if you don't wish to participate, I will need your help in hunting a… less willing test subject. It shouldn't be too hard a task with your knowledge about your kind.”

 

Hexxat sighed.

 

“If those vampires you wish to provoke are working in an organized guild, it is unlikely that they will venture out alone. You won’t be able to hunt one without drawing attention to yourself and turning their guild into your enemy…” The vampire took a deep breath. “Alright,  _ Killer Witch _ , I will do it. But you’d better do me good service with L’s assignments.”

 

“You can count on it,” Cat grinned, trying to hide any facial cues of relief. She wasn't sure Hexxat would actually agree to collaborate. “Now go have fun, I’ll join you in a minute.”

 

“I’ll try not to punch the dwarf.”

 

“Oh, I don't think it will kill him if you do,” Cat giggled, wondering how Viconia would be faring with Korgan. “Yoshimo, you may go, too.”

 

The thief waved at the witch and followed Hexxat as Cat dismissed Shantir so she could get started with her work. She then glanced at Dorn's imposing figure at her side. He had said nothing during the entire time they had been at the engineer’s quarters. The blackguard caught her gaze, and he seemed to relax. He had always liked it better to speak to her when they were alone, she knew that all too well…

 

“It is good to be travelling with you once more, Cat,” he said, allowing himself a lopsided grin that sent shivers down the witch's spine. “We are a formidable pair, you and I.”

 

Cat chuckled and looked away. She couldn't believe how easily he was able to make her lose her focus on what was ahead of her. Was he doing it on purpose, perhaps?

 

“We are indeed,” she agreed. They did cooperate perfectly during fights, and had saved each other's lives countless times. However, Cat couldn't help but wonder if that was what the blackguard actually meant.

 

“However, you still have other… companions. Companions that might betray you.”

 

Cat huffed. Again with that crap?

 

“If you are referring to Hexxat, she never meant to attack me, and I hold her only means of survival close to me at all times,” she retorted, showing him the bag of holding that contained the vampire's coffin.

 

“And what of the others?”

 

“Korgan is a simple man. As long as there's money, ale and something to kill, he’ll be loyal to me. Viconia needs my protection to survive at the surface, and Yoshimo… he travels with me for the time being, yes, but you'd be a fool if you thought I trust him one bit. I will replace him as soon as I uncover his true motives. I suspect he works for Irenicus, so for now I’d rather keep him under my supervision than allowing him to spy on me. But no one is going to betray me.”

 

“There’s but one way to ensure that doesn't happen–if it’s not already too late,” was Dorn's grave reply.

 

“My, you really are the optimistic kind, aren’t you?” Cat drawled, rolling her eyes at the blackguard's overtly protective nature.

 

“You must know they will aid you only while it is convenient,” Dorn insisted. “You can trust no one but yourself.”

 

_ Trust no one. _

 

Cat shook her head at the flash of the fake image Irenicus planted in her brain. Before dawn, he had insisted that she trusted him, and now she expected her to mistrust everybody else? Cat knew he meant well, and that he had proven worthy of her trust after everything they had gone through together, but it unnerved her to hear him say such things when it was Imoen, not him, who had risked everything to save her. Sure, it was beyond his power to get her out of that damned cage, but what if she found herself in such a situation again? She couldn't count on him for that… which ultimately proved his own words about only trusting herself right. And it pissed her off to no end, because she  _ wanted  _ to trust him. She crossed her arms and frowned.

 

“You misunderstand. They are here only while it is convenient for ME,” she finally replied, staring up at him with her chin pointed up in pride. “The moment their usefulness ends, so will they.”

 

The witch's words seemed to somewhat soothe Dorn's worries.

 

“I am glad to hear it,” he said. “But watch them carefully. If you see so much as a hint of weakness or insubordination, destroy them before they destroy you.”

 

_ Does that mean you will destroy me if I keep having nightmares, Dorn?  _ She wanted to say, but refrained from it. As hard as he was making it for her to reciprocate, she needed to ensure his loyalty to her, even if she wasn't certain he would be there for her when she needed him.

 

“I’ll retire to sleep,” she drawled instead. “Good night, and thanks for the advice.”

* * *

_ Cat stood at an unfamiliar place. It somewhat resembled Irenicus’ library, but it was all too foggy for her to be sure. As if on cue, he appeared in front of her, the fog dissipating to reveal hundreds of stone statues surrounding both of them. Imoen was nowhere to be seen, but Cat wasn't sure whether that was a good or a bad thing. _

 

_ “Life… is strength,” Irenicus began to speak. “This is not to be contested. It seems logical enough. You live; you affect your world. But is it what you need? You are… different… inside.” _

 

_ Irenicus approached one of the statues and murmured a spell. It was brought to flesh, and a woman stood where stone once did. Her eyes were lost somewhere far from the dream Cat and her torturer shared. _

 

_ “This woman lives and has strength of a sort,” he continued in his emotionless monotone. “She lost her parents to plague, her husband to war, but she persevered. Her farm has prospered, her name is respected, and her children are fed and safe. She lived as she thought she should.” _

 

_ He made a pause. _

 

_ “And now, she is dead.” _

 

_ Out of nowhere, the woman was blown to smithereens. Cat scrunched her nose at the spilled guts; they almost stained her robe. Then, Irenicus turned to her. _

 

_ “Her land will be divided, her children will move on, and she will be forgotten. She lived a 'good’ life, but she had no power. She was a slave to death.” _

 

_ A memory flashed before Cat's eyes; the dream where she was sitting at the Throne of Blood, and the whole world was on its knees. Irenicus did not react, nor did she perceive any pressure against her psyche. In that dreamworld, he could not see inside her mind; only into their shared dreamscape. She smiled, defiant and filled with determination, her purpose clear to her, yet invisible for her foe. _

 

_ “I wonder if you are destined to be forgotten,” he continued. “Will your life fade in the shadow of greater beings? You are born of murder, the very essence of that which takes life. You have power, if you wish it.” _

 

_ “These images are interesting to me,” Cat finally replied. “I deserve power because of what I am!” _

 

_ Irenicus looked satisfied. _

 

_ “Yes. Understand what is available to you,” he said, with a courteous wave of his hand, as if expecting her to actually try. _

 

_ Cat decided to play along and let out the potential still sleeping inside her. A meteor swarm rained over the pair, destroying all the statues but leaving both unscathed. _

 

Cat woke up with a smile. Irenicus thought he was luring her to his trap, but he had no idea what he was up against. If he could no longer reach into her mind, then there was no way for him to learn how powerful she would become before facing him. Sure, there was Yoshimo, but he wouldn't get to see half of what she had in store. He had no idea about the investigations she had been carrying out, or all of the new spells she had learned; she had been sure to keep her magical training private. Every new skill she acquired would add an element of surprise when she faced the wretched mage. Against such a powerful enemy, it could mean the difference between victory and defeat.

 

And oh, was he in for a bitter defeat.

 

* * *

“Alright, everyone!” Cat gleefully greeted her companions at the inn tavern while they broke their fast. “We’re going on a little trip!”

 

“A trip?” Viconia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Where are you taking us?”

 

“Scouts from the de’Arnise hold found enemies stepping into their territory, presumably to take over the castle,” Cat explained. “Its heir, a stupid posh mageling called Nalia, helped me clean up and take control of the Copper Coronet, in return for my aid in defending her land from the upcoming invasion.”

 

“And why, pray tell, would you waste your time like that?” Viconia groaned in annoyance. She profoundly disliked such acts of selflessness, as she believed it didn't change a thing about the pre-established ideas people had in their minds about the others. And she was absolutely right.

 

“Because she has promised a juicy reward in exchange for our help, and I could really use the coins,” Cat explained. “Any more questions?”

 

Nobody held any more doubts about their mission, so they quickly set out to the city gates. However, they found a strange scene unfolding on their way; a group of assassins were surrounding a man who laid on the floor, either injured or dead. Cat was about to keep going and do her thing when they noticed her and her companions, and decided they didn't want witnesses. After a brief fight, Cat knelt down beside the injured man.

 

“Please, help me!” He panted. “They have poisoned me!”

 

Cat turned to Viconia.

 

“Can we spare a slow potion spell?”

 

“D-don’t bother… this is no ordinary poison… no magic will work on it—” the man paused to cough up blood. Cat shimmied away from him in disgust. “I need you to take me to my friends at the docks, in an orange house southwest, they… they're the only ones who can help me…”

 

Cat narrowed her eyes. The docks? That was were the slave trade was still going on. She had vowed to end it once she had finished returning all the damned favors which had allowed her to free the Copper Coronet slaves and take over the slums.

 

“Who are your friends?” Cat demanded, suspicion lacing her tone.

 

“I—I can’t tell you… please…”

 

“So much secrecy…” Cat sighed dramatically, “and what would be in it for me?”

 

“Well… we don't have much, so you’d get my friends’ gratitude… please, I don't have much time left…”

 

“Sorry, I don't work for gratitude,” Cat replied with a sneer. “Dorn, carry him, will you?”

 

“Weren't we supposed to leave to the de’Arnise hold?” He harrumphed as he grabbed the poisoned man and placed him over his shoulders, like he would a sack of potatoes, prompting a weak whimper from the man.

 

“I am really curious about that poison,” the witch replied as she turned to go back to the slums. “I wish to investigate it. It shouldn't take me too long, and I am certain that the keep can hold until we get there.”

 

It took the rest of the day for the man to die. Once inside Cat’s laboratory, she politely asked Hexxat to extract some of “the subject’s” blood and pour it into a vial so the witch could inspect the poison used. She asked for Viconia and Yoshimo's counsel on the matter, even though the former was only familiar with the spider poisons used in the Underdark, while the latter was rarely one to resort to such a dangerous tool. She paged through some of the books she had purchased at the market and the ones she had managed to carry from Irenicus’ dungeon, patient, as the poisoned man agonized in a nearby bed, unable to move and rendered almost speechless. Korgan quickly left, stating that he was bored and that he would be at the tavern if Cat needed him. Viconia was now monitoring the man’s condition, noting all of his symptoms and how they evolved as the witch kept reading. Hexxat stood perfectly still, waiting, after washing up her mouth with water –she didn't know where that man had been, and he  _ was  _ poisoned after all–, while Dorn paced around, his clanking armor getting on Cat's nerves as she tried to concentrate. He incessantly huffed; waiting had never been his forte, but lately he was insufferably impatient. Maybe it was his patron rilling him up? If that was the case, Cat couldn't completely blame him. Even in the best of days, she felt that dark feeling of rage deep within, pushing her to kill, kill, kill…

 

But death did not need to be impatient. It could wait, and be prolonged or delayed for as long as it was necessary. Which was what Viconia was doing now with the man. In the meantime, Cat kept searching for the peculiar substance she had found within his blood… and found the answer in the unlikeliest of places. By then, the man was already dead.

 

“Things are definitely getting interesting,” Cat commented. “Viconia, could you use a spell to preserve that man’s body? Once we’re done with the de’Arnise hold, we’ll be paying his friends a visit.”

 

“And why would we do that now that he’s dead and beyond their help?”

 

“Because,” Cat chuckled, “this poison is of Zenthish origin, and I just remembered that when I kicked off Jaheira, she told me she’d be at the Harpers’ headquarters… at the docks.”

 

The Sharran smiled.

 

“Shadow Thieves, vampire guilds, Beshaban cults, Harpers, Zhents… this city surely isn't boring.”

 

As the occupants of the room left, Cat signaled Dorn to stay.

 

“You know, I will need to run further tests, but this poison looks quite promising,” Cat told the blackguard with a smile. “Perhaps you would like to try it on your weapons.”

 

“I already have Ur-Gothoz’ breath to poison them,” he rebuffed her, stubborn as usual.

 

“Well, just in case you’d someday want to try that self-reliance you speak about so much…”

 

“Enough!” Dorn bellowed, making Cat jump a bit in shock. “I told you I did not wish to discuss this matter, so stop pushing it!”

 

“Well then, maybe you should stop pushing  _ me  _ into making the same kind of decisions you have, which bind me further to others’ wishes as you are bound to your patron, without even knowing or at the very least trying to understand what I want or  _ how  _ I want to achieve it,” she shot back, her voice venomous as the poison she had been analyzing. She was sick and tired of his mixed signals and messages, of his veiled expectations about her and the little concern he showed for the consequences that each of her carefully meditated decisions would have if she rushed them like he seemed to want her to.

 

“Then why won’t you just tell me?” Dorn asked, taking a few strides in Cat's direction, which meant he was now pretty close to her. Too close for comfort.

 

“I want to save my friend,” Cat sighed as she walked past him, refusing to specify which friend she was speaking of at that time.

 

* * *

The de’Arnise territories expanded on verdant lands, with a forest that sheltered it and farming grounds all around. A most peaceful place… safe for the ice trolls. Being so weak, the group quickly dealt with the first they encountered, and Cat finished it off with a flame arrow, but she then began to lash out a string of curses and insults that actually made Korgan feel humbled, some of them in foreign languages. Dorn thought he heard a word in abyssal.

 

“Trolls? Her keep is getting invaded by trolls and she doesn't even bother to mention it? Seriously?”

 

The witch threw her hands in the air in frustration. No one dared to say a thing. Not when she was in  _ that  _ mood.

 

“Great, just GREAT! Now we have to stop so I can memorize all the fire and acid spells I have available!”

 

“I’ll get to that too,” Viconia volunteered.

 

“Alright, everyone, prepare your tents,” Cat drawled in frustration, “because without fire or acid we can’t do fucking anything.”

 

After spending the evening memorizing the proper spells, Cat slipped in her nightgown, hoping to actually get some rest this time. She was getting sick and tired of all the encounters with Irenicus in her dreams. Before calling it a night, she took a few puffs from her black lotus pipe, hoping a couple threads of the dried flower would be enough to grant her a dreamless sleep.

 

Alas, the powers that be were not so generous. Not that Cat actually expected entities like Ao to be anything else than selfish assholes, but still.

* * *

_ Irenicus, on the other hand, looked pleased to see her. Or at least as pleased as an emotionless unliving shell of a man could be. He seemed to read the look on her eyes as he approached her prone figure. They were in an unknown place to her, in a long, dark corridor. She could see nothing but the mage she loathed so much. _

 

_ “Stand,” he commanded. _

 

_ Was it simple conditioning, her own will, or was he exerting some sort of power over her? Whatever the answer was, Cat complied. _

 

_ “You rest each night uneasy,” he told her. “You are weary. You struggle daily. It will not end, you know, until you acknowledge what you are.” _

 

“You mean until you can get your dead hands on my divine essence,”  _ Cat thought, but remained silent. She knew he could not access her newly formed thoughts, she knew he didn't know she had been recovering much of what he took from her. So she would play along, go straight into his trap with all of that knowledge hidden under her sleeve. _

 

_ “You walk as a mortal, taking no advantage from your heritage, from your talents within. So many things of flesh are greater than you,” the mage went on. “Walk among them, these beasts that are less than you are. See their strength; see how easily you fall to their muscle and skill.” _

 

_ Then, he conjured an image… of Cat. It was a strange thing to see oneself. Did her hair look really  _ that  _ terrible? Was she really so short? However, the other Cat soon had company. A tanar’i. The fake sighed that it was hopeless, and the tanar’i tore her to pieces. The real Cat felt slightly insulted; she  _ had  _ defeated a tanar'i before… but Irenicus didn't need to know that she had just managed to remember that. Let his little dream lessons undo all he had done to her; let them be his eventual downfall. _

 

_ “Why do you stand for this? Why do you submit to the flesh when death is bred in your bones? Do you realize the power you might hold? When the world of flesh is beneath you,  even creatures mysterious and magical will fall!” _

 

“Is he suggesting me to ascend or to become a lich?”  _ Cat wondered as her fake was summoned again. _

 

_ That time, “Cat” was surrounded by an illithid, an effreeti and a lich. She casted spell after spell, and the three burst into pieces as she gave into hysterical laughter before disappearing. _

 

_ “Follow, and receive the gift you are owed by the blood in your veins,” Irenicus taunted the real Cat. _

 

_ “As if I would trust you!” She scoffed. _

 

_ The man’s eyes narrowed, though the gesture conveyed no emotion, except perhaps a calculation of the optimal way to draw the witch into his trap. _

 

_ “Follow, if only to protect the weak that fell because of you.” _

 

_ A circle of teleportation appeared, and Imoen walked through it. As soon as she did, Irenicus casted a lightning spell on her that made her scream and flop to the floor. _

 

Cat woke up shouting her friend's name, cold sweat running down her back. As she began to shake, Imoen's words from her first dream rang in her head.

 

_ “Too late. You will come too late.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little piece at the beginning is from lovely, by Billie Eilish and Khalid. I think it portrays struggle very well.
> 
> So, tell me your thoughts about this one! Just when Cat thinks she's got everything under control, Irenicus turns the tables on her! To be honest, I kind of sympathize with her in this specific regard. But she's still a terrible person you should not get close to under any circumstances! Anyway, please do bring me your feeedback, it fills me with happiness! <3 And be on the watchout for a celebratory one-shot for this story going over 100 hits :)


	7. Overall complications and feudal loopholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat must repay the last of the debts she contracted when asking for help to free the slaves of the Copper Coronet: she must free Nalia's castle from the trolls that took it over, and hopefully also rescue her relatives. It includes the much awaited sparring ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one comes rather late, but welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! It mostly covers up the de'Arnise keep mission and it turned out to be really long, but I really didn't want to cut anything out. Again, I skimmed most of the battles to focus on other stuff, like Cat's attachment to animals and the growing tension between her and Dorn... and also getting the Flail of Ages and fighting the iron golem, there was just no way I was leaving that place without THE HUGE TREASURE!
> 
> Anyway, I am somehow sleepy so I'm beginning to rant, so I'll just shut up and let you enjoy this new chapter. The next one is not finished yet, so I might post a one-shot next week while I work on it. Enjoy!

_ Once I had a secret love _

_ That lived within the heart of me _

_ All too soon my secret love _

_ Became impatient to be free _

* * *

 

“Up! Everybody up right fucking NOW!”

 

Cat’s thankfully not literal banshee shrieks were a most effective way to wake up any sleeping being thousands of yards from her position. That said, those she arose from their slumber were not much too happy about her methods.

 

“What’s wrong with ye, woman? Have ye lost yer witching mind?” A still sleepy Korgan grumbled with a yawn as he searched for his axe.

 

“We have to move. Now,” was the mage’s only reply.

 

Hexxat, who only knew sleep whenever she needed to regenerate after being “mortally” wounded, caught up with the woman as she hurriedly dismantled her tent.

 

“I heard you scream a name before,” she whispered. “Did you have another nightmare?”

 

_ Trust no one. _

 

“That's no business of yours,” Cat muttered as she packed everything in such a rush that in the end, her backpack had barely any usable space left. She couldn't afford to waste any more time.  _ “Too late. You will come too late…” _

 

“Actually, it might be,” Hexxat insisted, placing a hand on Cat's shoulder in an attempt to ease her pace, since the others were still finishing packing their own belongings. “I would like to know what I’m getting into before I find myself throat-deep into another’s problems.”

 

Right. She’d do anything to survive.

 

“Remember what I told you about finding this mage who has my childhood friend captive? Well, before that, he tortured and experimented on us for months, and now we share a weird dream connection from time to time where he makes me watch as he tortures her, among other things. I must gather enough money to get a ship to the place where they're both being held. Then, I will rescue her, make him suffer as few have suffered before, then kill him. Any other questions?”

 

The vampire tilted her head to the side, curious.

 

“So it’s revenge you’re after?”

 

“It'll do for a start, but my top priority is my friend Imoen.”

 

Then, Hexxat rubbed a surprisingly soothing –if unnaturally cold– hand along Cat’s back, smiling sympathetically.

 

“Had I any close friends, I’m sure I’d feel the same. We’ll get your friend back, Cat. I promise you that.”

 

Cat was about to smile and thank her when she heard loud stomping behind her back. She immediately tensed up.

 

_ Here we go again… _

 

Dorn picked up his pace to walk beside the witch, casting a death glare at the vampire, who ignored him and proceeded her hiking along the forest area surrounding the de'Arnise hold. Why would anyone want to live in such an isolated and obviously vulnerable place, Cat had no idea. She just knew they had to make it to the outer palisade of the keep, where they would meet Nalia and whatever forces survived the attack. When Hexxat was out of earshot, Dorn spoke to Cat.

 

“You are aware that you cannot trust her, right?”

 

Cat huffed, amused and annoyed at the half-orc's insistence.

 

“Well, I understand her nature might make it difficult to trust her good intentions towards her potential dinner,” she decided to joke, “but so far, she hasn't tried to drink my blood and is in fact concerned about my problems, so I think we’re good. For now.”

 

“And how long do you think she will show such concern?” He pressed on. Why was he so fixated with Hexxat? Cat’s other companions were just as unreliable.

 

“Well, I hope it’s long enough,” she chuckled. Then, she shot the blackguard a mischievous smile. “I can always charm her into loyalty. I caught her staring at my boobs a couple times, you know.”

 

Dorn's eyes widened. His jaw tensed. He was outraged, Cat could tell. So that was what all that shit was about? The woman had to make an herculean effort not to laugh in his face. It actually took a whole minute and fists trembling in anger for the half-orc to calm down enough to speak again.

 

“Are you attracted to her?” He asked.

 

How was it that even when it was certain they would end up fighting, he made her forget all her problems? Cat smiled, deciding to push him just a little bit farther.

 

“Well, she is definitely attractive,” she replied, watching with glee how the blackguard's eyebrows furrowed even further than she thought physically possible, “but I hardly know her.”

 

“Would you share your bed with her?”

 

That time, Cat was unable to hold her laughter. He cackled uncontrollably as Dorn glared at her.

 

“What do you find so humorous?” He growled.

 

“Your question. It is utterly ridiculous,” Cat managed to say between laughs.

 

“Are you mocking me?” He spat as he grabbed a hold of her wrist to pull her closer. The gesture made her heart race.

 

_ Oh dear… _

 

“It takes a HUGE deal of trust to get in my bed,” Cat replied, shrugging and flicking her hand free of his grasp with one elegant movement. “I figured  _ you  _ of all people would know. And yet here you are, asking me this. So yes, I do find it kind of hilarious that you could indeed be so clueless.”

 

Cat couldn't help but laughing again at Dorn's baffled expression as they kept walking. It quickly switched to anger; frustration, maybe, but Cat couldn't stop herself. Suddenly, he huffed and stopped in his tracks.

 

“This endless walking makes me restless!” He complained.

 

“Funny. It usually tires me out,” Cat replied, raising an eyebrow in surprise at his sudden strange behavior. Did he really grow restless from walking, or was it their conversation that stirred him like that?

 

“I’ve an idea. You and I will sparr! To the victor, the glory!”

 

“Uh… what?”

 

“Ho, did I hear the word 'spar’? Who wants to get wrecked?” Korgan appeared with the rest of the group, curious as to why they had suddenly stopped and why Dorn was taking off his armor, and definitely excited about the prospective of fighting someone.

 

“Maybe some other day,” Dorn replied as he slid off his shirt, leaving him only in his pants and boots. Was he going to play the psychological game of trying to distract her? What a cheating bastard. “Now I am challenging her.”

 

When he pointed at Cat, Korgan bent over in laughter.

 

“The kitty? She might roast ye alive if ye be too slow, but other than that she can nae fight!”

 

“Hey, I have improved my hand to hand combat ability!” Cat protested, offended by the dwarf’s lack of faith in her martial skills. “Alright, Dorn, I think you’ve had an excellent idea! I could use an easy win.”

 

“Then you’re about to be disappointed,” the half-orc smirked in response.

 

Behind her back, the witch heard her companions trying to take bets on who would win the match, only to realize that they were all betting against her. The audacity…

 

“No weapons, no armor, no magic,” Dorn announced as Cat drew closer to him. “A true match of prowess.”

 

“'No magic’? And how am I supposed to match your strength, then?” Cat demanded, beginning to feel a little worried about her physical integrity.

 

“Prepare yourself!” Dorn roared as he charged.

 

He actually gave her no time to prepare herself to do anything but dodging in the last moment to avoid being tackled. In the split second before he turned to her, he left his side vulnerable for attack… but she hesitated. She could still hear echoes of rage, the mental image of her death at the half-orc's hands that Irenicus had implanted in her mind began to play again before she could block it, and by the time she was able to move, he had already grabbed her with his strong arms in an inescapable hold. He bent her over and then held her legs, raising her from the floor. He hooked the now helpless woman's legs to his shoulders and then threw them both to the ground.

 

“Whoa, I give up, stop trying to break my back here!” Cat quickly raised her hands when she saw the half-orc raising from his position and advancing towards her.

 

Then she heard the chuckles and snickers. She turned to glare at the remainder of her companions as she sat back up to recover some of her injured pride. Though sore, she found that Dorn hadn't actually hurt her. Like always. No matter how harsh he could be, he never, ever truly hurt her. She felt like crap for having given into fear and rage during the match.

 

“What are you laughing at?” She bellowed. “Keep going and shut those shit holes you call mouths before I close them forever! Go, NOW!”

 

The group obliged, even though she still heard muffled chuckles. Those idiots… When she turned to glare at Dorn for the ridicule he made her face, he was glaring back at her.

 

“Your form is poor,” he chided her, “and you hold back when you should strike.”

 

_ Well, I’m sorry I didn't listen to the voice in my head telling me to tear you to pieces. _

 

“You have much to learn, Cat.”

 

The witch blinked in surprise.

 

“You’re teaching me?”

 

“You could definitely use some physical training,” Dorn replied. “If Irenicus delved so deep inside your mind, he knows all of your old tricks, and he’ll be prepared for them. I think it would be a good idea for you to learn something new, especially since you have turned to fighting in the front line.”

 

Again, every single stupid thing he did was for her sake in the end. He even reached the same conclusion she had about confronting the mage, yet with different ideas as to how to implement the much needed surprise factor. And yet, Cat was still conditioned to step back for fear that he might betray her, she still saw flashes of the grim image Irenicus played in her head on repeat for days and days and days on end.

 

_ I don't deserve you. I don't deserve Imoen. I don't deserve any single person who trusts me. _

 

Quick enough to wipe the tears that threatened to fall before he noticed, Cat jumped back to her feet and smiled at Dorn.

 

“Well then, you’ll find me a fast learner!”

 

He didn't reply. He seemed concerned about… something else. Something that appeared to comprise everything between the crown of Cat's head and her toes. Besides, during their sparring session, her cut robes had moved a bit, not revealing much more than they already normally did, but just the right amount of one of her breasts for Dorn to catch sight of it.

 

“You like what you see?” She teased, pulling at the piece of clothing to return it to its original place.

 

“You are an attractive woman, Cat,” Dorn replied, letting his eyes wander her figure with no hint of shame, smirking in the same way he used to do when they had that type of conversations…

 

“Oh, you only notice it now?” She joked, noting that he hadn't even begun to put his armor back on. “I’m heartbroken.”

 

“I noticed the very day we met,” he replied, walking a little closer to her, “I just decided to let you know now.”

 

He was close enough for her to reach out and touch him. Half of her mind screamed at her not to do it, not to lose her focus and give into anything that could distract her and weaken her,  _ not to trust him or anyone _ ; but the other half raised a huge middle finger at all that. So she pressed her fingertips to his chest, right where his heart was, feeling him tense up with anticipation, his breathing quickening and goosebumps beginning to form in his skin.

 

“Well, since you feel like being so… honest, I guess I should pay you back in kind,” she purred, sliding her fingers down his chest, his torso, his abs… right then, she realized how much she had missed him, how much she still  _ wanted  _ him. “I must admit, you have a rugged… tusked allure yourself.”

 

With a chuckle, she withdrew her fingers and took a step back. Before she could retreat any further, though, Dorn caught her by the waist and pulled her to him. They were chest to chest now, and she could feel the warmth of his skin even through her clothes. She sighed and rested her hands on the strong arms that held her, but made no attempt to push him away. She simply lacked the will or desire to do it, as much as she knew, deep down, that it would be the best for both.

 

“Next time, perhaps the sparring will be a little more intimate,” he said in a husky whisper, running his hands up and down Cat's back, but never letting go of her.

 

That little gesture, his malicious, lopsided smile; and his words set her on fire. Of course it would happen. And of course her accursed mouth would work faster than her brain, saying things she definitely shouldn't say. Except that time, it was her whole body that reacted before she even gave a thought to potential consequences. Standing on her tiptoes and supporting herself on his shoulders, she stretched, all the while sliding her body against his, so her mouth could reach his ear. After nipping at the lobe, she whispered into it.

 

“I’d like that.”

 

By the way his whole body shuddered and his arms held her closer, pressing her to him, his hands resting right above her rear, digging his nails into her skin through the fabric of her robe in the way that he knew so well how much she loved, Cat guessed he was really looking forward to it, too.

 

“Hrm. A worthy companion,” he said in a low rumble.

 

Then, as suddenly as he had grabbed the witch, he let go of her.

 

“If only I could believe…”

 

_ What? _

 

When she saw him starting to put his armor back on, Cat felt something inside her breaking. It made no sense. She had to focus on reuniting all the resources and power she needed to rescue Imoen and defeat Irenicus, she couldn't allow herself such distractions… especially knowing that Dorn was bound to his patron's will, no matter how unhappy he now was about it, and there was nothing she could do for him in that regard; no help he would accept. So even his loyalty had its limits. And despite all that, she felt something awful clawing at her chest when he turned from her. However, when he was done with his armor and faced her again, neither the desire in his eyes nor his smirk had disappeared.

 

“Still, it’s good to see you have managed to keep your taste for lust,” he said. “I can work with that.”

 

And then, he left to reach the rest of the group, leaving Cat utterly bedazzled. What the Hells was going on between the two of them? She couldn't tell anymore. Deciding it would be best to dwell on that when she wasn't busy finding a castle to defend from trolls, she hurried to reach her companions.

* * *

 

“You! What the Hells were you thinking?”

 

Nalia de’Arnise blinked in confusion at the angry witch screaming at her. Before she could reply, however, the leader of her father's soldiers stepped between the both of them.

 

“Watch your tone! You are speaking to the heir of the de'Arnise hold!”

 

Cat rolled her eyes. Stupid nobles and their titles and self importance.

 

“Yes, I am aware I am speaking to the same Nalia de’Arnise who failed to tell my group what kind of enemy we would be facing, so we could prepare ourselves accordingly.”

 

Nalia bit her lip and looked down, regretful.

 

“I apologize for putting you in this position,” she replied, “but not many would have accepted to help if they knew it was trolls they would be fighting.”

 

“Well, we had to stop and waste a whole day so I could memorize the spells we need to fight them, so your information withdrawal may have very well cost you your father's life,” Cat spat, crossing her arms and glaring at the soldier who was about to chide her about her manners and who definitely thought twice upon seeing her angered expression.

 

“I am sorry, really. I shall tell you everything you need to know now, I promise,” Nalia babbled, her eyes bright with tears. She crumbled down with so little and still thought she had what it took to be an adventurer?

 

“Good. Is there any other sort of creature aside from the trolls?” Cat demanded to know.

 

“Well, there were some snake-like monsters… I don't know exactly what they were, sorry. I haven’t travelled much in my life, you know,” the noblewoman provided.

 

“They are yuan-ti, milady,” the man who spoke before clarified. Then, he turned to Cat. “I am Arat, captain of the de’Arnise forces… or what’s left of them. I can tell you the trolls have umber hulks too. We believe they used them to infiltrate the castle from below the ground.”

 

“Umber hulks?” Cat gasped. “I don't think we have the adequate protection spells to fight those. Is there any chance we can avoid them?”

 

“Perhaps the servants who are still inside the keep can tell you more, if they are still alive,” the man replied. “The priority, however, is to rescue Lord de’Arnise and his sister, Lady Delcia Caan, and to bring down the troll who leads this attack. If you do, the rest of their forces will surely disband.”

 

“There is a secret entrance to the hold behind some bushes, just north of here,” Nalia chimed in. “I’ve used it before to… to sneak out and be with my father's servants and the commoners who live in this land. The trolls and the… ‘you-on-tea’ or whatever, have blocked the main entrance to the castle, but if you sneak inside and get to the main courtyard, you could open the drawbridge for my father's forces to access the castle and assist you.”

 

“That's a good idea,” Cat conceded. “That advantage is going to be of great help. Anything else I should know?”

 

“One of the servants, Daleson, used to work at the lower levels,” Nalia said. “He might know about those… ‘amba-halks’.”

 

“Remember the trolls only die with acid or fire,” Arat continued, retrieving some arrows of fire from his quiver. “If you don't use that after they fall, they’ll eventually regenerate. Take these, they might be useful.”

 

“I know, that’s why I had to prepare new spells,” Cat sighed, accepting the arrows. Then, she fumbled with Dragomir's Respite and took out a short bow she had found while fighting the slavers at the Copper Coronet. She handed the bow and arrows to Yoshimo, who was proficient with the use of those weapons.

 

“May Tymora be with you, milady,” Captain Arat dismissed the group.

 

“Wait!” Nalia exclaimed. “Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? I know the castle like the back of my hand, I could guide you through it and—”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Cat interrupted her. “In order to succeed, we must work on a worst-case-scenario basis. If your father is indeed dead, then you’re the only heir to these lands. If you care about your servants and vassals as much as you claim, you must remain here, safe from harm.”

 

Cat could tell Nalia did not like having to stay behind, but she nodded in compliance.

 

“Very well. I will wait. I’m counting on you. Oh, if you find my bedchambers in the second floor, search for my hold key. It will open any locked doors you may not be able to pick. Also… there is an ancient weapon which might help you fight the trolls, called the Flail of Ages. It was disassembled long ago to prevent any lord from using it to wrongful ends, but its three heads are hidden in the castle, I don't know exactly where. If you find them, go to the forgery and its magic will assemble the weapon again. I believe this is the right time to use it.”

 

“I’ll keep all that in mind. Thank you.”

 

As they walked away, Viconia approached Cat.

 

“I have to wonder, why didn't you just tell the brat she would only be a liability?” She asked, genuinely curious. “You never struck me as one who cares much for hurting random people's feelings.”

 

“I don't,” the witch shrugged, “but if I did that, she would probably step in anyway, to try to prove me wrong, and then she’d get killed and we wouldn't get paid.”

 

“Well thought,” Viconia praised her with a grin. “If only you applied those logic capabilities of yours to all your issues…”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

Viconia's eyes darted to Dorn, who walked some good steps in front of them with Korgan. They did seem to be getting along.

 

“You always claim you know what you're doing,” the priestess explained, “but I beg to differ when it comes to him. You know he has pledged himself to a devil, that he lacks free will and he shall abandon you if his patron demands him so, yet you cling to him as if your life depended on it. It’s quite pathetic, if you ask me.”

 

“Wow, all hail Viconia, love counselor,” Cat drawled with sarcasm. “So you came to tell me I’m pathetic, or do you have something actually useful to say to me?”

 

“I am merely warning you. He is a weakness for you. Weakness inevitably leads to your doom. I am telling you by experience,” the priestess replied, now in a softer tone.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cat requested, holding the drow's hand.

 

Viconia took a deep breath. Whatever she wished to say, it wouldn't be easy for her to recount.

 

“It was the reason why I abandoned Lolth’s worship,” she revealed. “I was required to sacrifice a child in her name. A babe who never got the chance to do any harm or good. I… couldn't do it.”

 

“And since then, you are an outcast among the drow,” Cat guessed, watching closely Viconia's facial expressions. She was good at hiding emotions, but her eyes always told the stories she wished to hide, if one bothered to look close enough.

 

“Not only that; I brought shame upon my family,” the woman let out a bitter chuckle. “I lost everything I had…”

 

“But then you found Shar.”

 

“But then I found Shar,” Viconia nodded in agreement. “She is no kind goddess and has no use for the weak, but she does not demand the senseless violence Lolth does.”

 

“You look content with your faith,” Cat observed, catching the drow toying with the holy symbol of her goddess she carried everywhere with her.

 

“I am. It has given me a sense of purpose,” she replied. “I have suffered, yes, but in the end I have thrived.”

 

“Then tell me one thing,” Cat asked, with an ample, enigmatic smile. “If you could turn back time, would you do it all over again? Give into your weakness, knowing what its consequences were?”

 

Viconia pondered on the question for a moment… or rather, on the nature of it, for her answer lacked any trace of hesitation.

 

“In a heartbeat. Though I fail to see why you wish to know that.”

 

“I don’t know,” Cat chuckled as she stretched her arms, “maybe I will thrive, too.”

 

Viconia snorted.

 

“Knowing you, that could be a possibility… but still, take care of yourself.”

 

“I would say, 'Yes, mother’, but since she was rather shitty at parenting, what with wanting to sacrifice me to my divine father and all, I won’t,” Cat chuckled.

 

“And don’t forget the nararoot tea.”

 

“I know, I know.”

* * *

“AHHHH DON’T EAT ME—Oh, you’re not trolls.”

 

Cat rolled her eyes at the terrified servant the group found at the other side of the secret passage.

 

“What gave it away, the lack of huge claws and teeth or the proportionate limbs?”

 

“I-I’m sorry,” the man apologized. “It’s just… you know… with the keep under attack and Lord de’Arnise disappeared, one gets kind of jumpy.”

 

“Then let's get straight to the point,” Cat replied. “Is your name Daleson, by any chance?”

 

“Y-yes. Who is asking?”

 

“We’ve been sent by Nalia to get rid of the trolls and rescue Lord de’Arnise and Lady Delcia Caan,” Cat explained. “Do you have any idea where they might be hiding?”

 

“No idea at all, I’m afraid,” Daleson replied with a sigh. “They’re definitely not in this floor. Try their bedchambers upstairs, or maybe the treasure room down below, though you’d have to get through the digging monsters first… a nasty lot, they are. They dug their way up here, and the trolls forced me to feed them.”

 

Daleson paused to grimace. Cat allowed him a moment to compose himself so he could keep speaking; his information would undoubtedly be invaluable.

 

“I had to kill four of the Lord’s hounds to make a stew for those things… disgusting. Nothing comes between those creatures and their food; they almost killed me to reach the stew. After that, I made a run for it, and here I am.”

 

_ Dog stew… _

 

“I see. Could you give me some directions, too?”

 

Cat asked for the quickest way to access the courtyard, as well as the nearest stairs to the upper and lower levels, and the forgery. Once she had a clear idea in mind of where to begin, she thanked the man and prompted him to get the Hells out of that place. When he was gone, she proceeded to advance in the opposite direction to the courtyard.

 

“Um, Cat?” Viconia asked. “What are you doing?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The witch grinned. “This Lord de’Arnise must be loaded with coins and jewels. Let’s relieve him of such a burden, shall we? Yoshimo, Hexxat, come with me.”

 

The two thieves inspected the closest rooms, with their chests and cupboards, for traps; and unlocked anything Cat couldn't directly shove her hands into. She found a room with a magic foundry that caught her eye. The forgery Nalia spoke of. In the next room, they found the acid head. Cat handed it to a surprised Dorn with a smile.

 

“Are you interested in learning to use flails?”

 

He took the head with a huff.

 

“There is no real mystery to it,” he said, “just crush your enemies’ skulls and bathe in their blood.”

 

Cat let out a giggle at Dorn's response. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“See? That's why I like you so much.”

 

Dorn's eyes widened.

 

Cat covered her mouth with a hand.

 

“What I mean is… uh…”

 

_ No, no, no, don’t start stammering now! Ugh, I hope I’m not blushing… Fuck, why the Hells did I say  _ that _? _

 

Slowly, the witch uncovered her face, now the same shade of crimson as her robe, and hurried to get out of the small treasure room where she found the head of the flail.

 

“Let’s keep on moving!”

 

* * *

 

There was a huge pot in the kitchen that gave off a nauseating stink, even though it was probably better than the stench of burned troll that clung to the adventurers’ clothes –however, they quickly grew used to it, so they barely even noticed it anymore. Cat covered her nose and raised the lid to take a peek inside. There was no stew left. Ugh. That meant they’d have to kill some poor doggies. She'd much rather face the umber hulks, but her group wasn't nearly enough prepared for such a challenge. Those creatures could confuse the soundest minds, so they would need proper protections in order to fight them. Protections that they lacked, as Viconia could only cast one chaotic commands spell per day, at least at that point, and they had no potions or gear to protect themselves from the creatures’ foul powers. With a sigh, she directed the group to the courtyard, where yet more trolls and a couple yuan-tis awaited their death. Up a set of stairs, they found the drawbridge mechanism. Cat actioned it and waited for the de’Arnise soldiers to get inside the castle and clean up the main entrance level along with the adventurers. Once it was done, Arat thanked them and secured the place so they could escort the few surviving servants outside with Nalia, and protect them until the keep was back in Lord de'Arnise’s control.

 

Cat stepped back to the courtyard with a sense of dread. The bloodhounds were huge; she did not discard the possibility that they were used as war dogs. Yet her left hand, which held the dagger, wouldn't stop trembling. She had been forced to kill animals before, but only in self-defense, and she avoided it whenever she could. After all, animals were better than people. She remembered her childhood in Candlekeep, when she scared the cows when trying to befriend them, or when she learned to fish in order to secretly feed Reevor’s cats so they would play with her –turning them too lazy to hunt rats and accidentally starting an infestation shortly before she left the keep.

 

The witch's right hand was balled in a fist that shook with anger and frustration. What good, indeed, was it to be a half-goddess if her power over death was so limited? Again, she couldn't help but thinking Irenicus was right. She  _ needed  _ more power. And though she hoped she would be prepared enough to face the mage by the time she left for Spellhold, she had the ominous feeling that she would be left no option but to walk straight into his trap to extract her divine essence and then fight for it. She approached the nearest dog and casted a glance at her companions.

 

“Do me all a favor and make it as quick and painless for them as you can,” she said, her voice completely devoid of her usual energy.

 

Then, her dagger flashed, quick as her eye to find the spot under the left axilla that would deliver an instant death. She did not move a muscle afterwards. Not even when another hound leapt at her and bit her right arm. Dorn was quick by her side, and as he raised his sword, she closed her eyes. She didn't open them as she heard the pitiful yapping of the remaining dogs. She remained still as she felt Viconia's healing spell closing her wounds.

 

“Korgan, you have an axe,” she said, surprised of how emotionless her voice sounded. “Cut the bodies in pieces small enough to fit in the pot. Dorn, help him carry them. I’ll go fetch some water for the pot. I don't think the umber hulks will mind that we don't peel the fur off.”

 

It was a good thing that everyone was wise enough to catch the clue that she wanted to be alone for a while. She ignited the fire of the kitchen and watched the water slowly heat to a boiling point. By that time, she had run out of tears to cry. It felt good to let them out for once. Retrieving a small bag with a mirror and some makeup –a generous gift from former Madam Nin–, she covered the signs of her plaint as best as she could before calling the others to pour the meat into the water. She knew the stew would take some time to cook, so she decided to check the upper levels of the keep in the meantime, to see if any of the nobles she had been tasked to rescue were hiding somewhere in there. Soon enough, she found what she believed to be Nalia’s room, and after Hexxat and Yoshimo dealt with every lock, the group sacked everything worth selling and Cat found the key the noblewoman had told her about. The thought of all the riches she would find in that place cheered her up a bit. She would make good use of the master key.

* * *

“Oh, ‘tis like a nightmare! Yet more hooligans tracking their filth through the halls!”

 

Lady Delcia Caan had been hiding in her own bedchambers the whole time, with the sole company of a bodyguard who looked more than relieved by the prospect of getting rid of the insufferable woman's presence, something Cat understood as soon as the lady opened her mouth.

 

“Walking in, dirtying the carpets… and ugh, what is that smell?” The woman complained and complained. “Forget about it, I don't want to know.”

 

Infuriated by the lady and still under the influence of the rage that filled her after her frustration at having to kill the dogs and during the bloodshed that led her to those chambers, Cat suppressed her urge to shut Delcia’s mouth with a fist and made an exaggerated bow.

 

“My apologies to any offense our presence may cause to your refined sensibilities, milady,” she said, perfectly emulating the saccharine speech of the nobility. “Your sweet, thoughtful niece Nalia has sent us to your rescue. The keep is surrounded by forest and it took a long trek to find it, which is why our boots are in such a deplorable state. And the smell you would rather not know about is the reason while your heart is still beating; burned troll and dog stew to drive off the umber hulks that plague the lower levels. We would have stopped to bathe until the stink went away and you could notice the rose perfume I usually smell of, but we would have wasted precious time that would have undoubtedly meant your death. Now, would  _ you  _ be so kind as to tell us of your brother’s whereabouts, if you know anything at all?”

 

Lady Delcia’s face was a deep shade of red, which, adding to her bulbous nose, strengthened her resemblance to a tomato. Cat had to suppress a smile; it was just  _ so fun  _ to piss off the nobles… it was a shame that she had to keep that one alive.

 

“As soon as the attack began, he instructed me to hide here and never wander out until I was rescued, which is something I would have never done anyway,” the lady replied, outraged by Cat's sarcastic politeness. “He is still at the mercy of the beasts bellow. I believe they are trying to get him to reveal something about a cache of gold. I doubt he will say a word. He’s as soft as Nalia sometimes, but he does not lower himself to dealing with his lessers. Anyway, you have successfully found me, so I demand to be escorted out to safety.”

 

“You already have a bodyguard for that, and we still need to rescue your brother,” Cat retorted. “However, we have cleared the path behind us, so you should be able to get out to your niece with no problems.”

 

“I’d better be!” Lady Delcia scoffed. “Come, Hendron, I need some fresh air after this most unpleasant encounter.”

 

“What? No reward for saving your life? You break my heart, milady.”

 

“As if I would care,” the noblewoman spat. “I am certain you would not even be here hadn't my niece promised a good enough reward, plus everything I am certain you have already looted and will continue to loot from this fine keep. Consider yourself duly rewarded, peasant.”

 

Tugging at her long dress to lift it high enough from the floor that she could walk without tripping, the lady left with her exhausted bodyguard in tow. As soon as they were out of sight, Cat took off her boots and proceeded to thoroughly clean off the dirt in them with Lady Caan's lovely carpet. It felt soft and warm under her feet, and she sighed in delight while she prompted her companions to imitate her. Korgan, Yoshimo and Viconia, who had been glaring at the noblewoman throughout Cat’s conversation with her, proceeded to trash the room; setting fire to her silks, stabbing her curtains and hacking the expensive wood of her furniture as they voiced their utter displeasure about the room’s owner. In the meantime, Hexxat and Dorn just stood in a corner, perplexed at what was happening. Cat had filled up the lady’s tub and used up all of her aromatic oils and salts, and she was now undressing with no regard to modesty. When she felt the stares of all her companions on her, she shrugged.

 

“What? I’m sick of smelling of burned troll.”

 

“Weren't we supposed to hurry or something?” Hexxat asked, not bothering to hide that she was quite enjoying the show, much to Dorn's silent, brooding outrage.

 

Cat waved a dismissive hand as she slipped into the fresh water.

 

“If Lord de'Arnise is anything like his sister, he’s going to throw a fit if we go see him looking and smelling like this,” she replied as she closed her eyes and relaxed. “So go on and clean your boots, you two. And stop gawking at me like that.”

* * *

Truly, the scent of all of Lady Caan's bath amenities and perfumes –Cat had to force Dorn and Korgan to empty a bottle each on themselves, but the others obliged without a complaint– countered perfectly the stench of the trolls the group kept killing. Hexxat even used up an extra bottle on the cloak of Dragomir, since it was nighttime and she didn't need to hide inside it anymore. After walking into a guard gone rogue –Cat suspected he was under a spell, but did not have the means to dispel it, so she just aided in killing him– and retrieving the ice head of the flail of ages from his dead body, the group found a yuan-ti mage –likely the one who had charmed the guard– defending the entrance to the lower levels of the keep. After dispatching her, they finally gained access to the secret passage… but first, there was still a head of the Flail of Ages to look for. So the group undid their path, searching for possible secret rooms or chests left unopened, all the way back to Lady Caan’s nearly destroyed room. After a more thorough examination, Hexxat found a hidden door that led to a narrow hallway, which in turn led to a chapel built entirely in fine marble and custodied by unmoving golems. There were three altars at the other side of the room. Hexxat and Yoshimo checked the floors, the walls and the altars themselves for traps, and after confirming there was none, the group went on to inspect the altars’ contents. On one of them rested the flail’s last head; the fire one. Cat took it, carefully watching the golems in case they lunged in to protect the treasure. They did not move.

 

“Alright, everyone, do not take anything else just yet,” she commanded, pointing at the conspicuous iron golem in the center of the room, “we’ll get back to sacking this place as soon as the flail is ready.”

 

Watching a foundry and a forge work by themselves thanks to magic was a spectacle Cat had never expected to witness during her life. And yet, there she was, looking at the invisible forces that worked a huge stone hammer and fed a scorching flame as the Flail of Ages was assembled once again. When the task was done, the fire disappeared just as suddenly as it had lit up. Dorn took slow steps towards the forge and carefully grabbed the weapon.

 

“It’s not even warm to the touch,” he commented as his eyes admired the legendary flail.

 

“Why don’t you test it?” Cat suggested. “If we take the weapons from the chapel, one by one, I think we should be able to easily overcome the golems.”

 

“What about the iron one? We don’t have the weapons needed to fight it,” Viconia commented with a frown.

 

“Actually, we do,” the witch replied, pointing at Dorn in excitement.

 

“Still, an iron golem is a formidable opponent to face,” the man said. “We might need a strategy… though I suspect you’ve already thought of one.”

 

Cat grinned from ear to ear as she led the way.

 

“You know me so well…”

* * *

 

The flesh and stone golems hadn’t been hard to take down, even with their pesky slowing down abilities. The only relic left to steal was a fine bow which appeared to be of elven design. From the entrance to the chapel, Viconia glared at it, then at her companions.

 

“Why does it have to be me?” She protested, crossing her arms.

 

“You drew the shortest straw,” Cat shrugged, waving hers in front of the pissed priestess’ face.

 

“I am sure more than one of you cheated,” she shot back, “and why is yours so huge compared to the others?”

 

“I’m just that lucky,” Cat shamelessly replied as she kept waving the straw closer and closer to Viconia’s nose, to prompt her into moving.

 

Muttering a curse in drow, the woman quaffed an oil of speed and raced into the room. She passed by the impassive iron golem and the remaining clay one, and took the bow from its altar. She scrunched her nose at the runes carved in the wood. Yes, it had definitely been crafted by her accursed surfacer cousins. However, she had no time to dwell on the offense inflicted upon her person, as the golems had become activated. So she followed the plan instead, running to the exit of the chapel, making sure the iron golem followed her more closely than its clay companion, and once out of their reach, she handed the damned bow to a very satisfied Cat. As the witch had predicted, the bigger golem tried and failed to walk out of the chapel, as the door was too small for it to cross. Her part in her fearless leader’s latest crazy plan was done. Now it was Dorn’s turn.

 

*~*~*

 

“Tell me,” Yoshimo leaned close to Cat and asked as they watched Dorn swinging his newest toy at his foe, “how did you get into adventuring? It is a dangerous business, as you well know. Any one of us could die without even a moment’s notice.”

 

The golem released a cloudkill, forcing its opponent to retreat and wait for it to dissipate on its own, as neither Cat nor Viconia had any means to dispel it, having opted for the more necessary fire spells they counted on.

 

“Honestly? I grew up reading tale upon tale of adventure, so I was eager to get out of my secluded home to explore the world… but in the end, I did not so much get into adventuring as it was forced upon me.”

 

“Forced upon you? What do you mean?”

 

The poisonous fumes finally dissipated, allowing Dorn to swing his flail at the golem, slightly damaging it. The construct tried to reach the blackguard with its massive arms, but it kept getting stuck in the doorway. However, it looked like it would take the blackguard some time to defeat the golem, judging by the small size of the crack on its surface.

 

“My stepfather was killed by a man who was looking to kill me,” Cat explained, shrugging. “I was alone with no place to call home when I started on this road… safe for Imoen, of course.”

 

Cat allowed herself to take a peep at Yoshimo. His expression of heartbreak was quite believable, as was the pat he gave her on the back.

 

“We will rescue her, Cat,” he assured her.

 

_ No, you won’t. _

 

For a moment, they stayed silent, watching Dorn stubbornly pounding on the golem while stepping back in time to avoid its massive punches.

 

“Tell me more about this man who killed your stepfather,”  Yoshimo asked as he watched the showdown.

 

Cat stayed silent for a while. Did he really not know? Was he perhaps testing her trust in him? She had been clear that she felt no such thing about him, but she never bothered to voice her suspicions about the bounty hunter's involvement with Irenicus. Perhaps it made sense, indeed, that he would pretend interest.

 

_ Oh, well, dead men tell no tales. _

 

“His name was Sarevok. He was obsessed with the power of our father and wished to kill me to prevent me from taking it,” was her nonchalant reply. Her half-brother was in her past where he belonged, and Irenicus already knew all there was to know about such matters. What difference would it make to feed his minion with information he already possessed?

 

Right then, Yoshimo posed the question Cat had been waiting for. She had to suppress a smile. The guy had completely fallen in her trap.

 

“Who was your father?”

 

Then, Cat allowed herself an enigmatic smile, in order to spark Yoshimo's interest.

 

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” she sighed dramatically as Dorn managed to turn the crack on the golem’s surface into a breach.

 

However, his foe caught up with him this time, releasing its cloudkill before he could step back, and taking advantage of the lack of visibility –or perhaps it was just an unfortunate coincidence, as the golem's programming wasn't too sophisticated– to throw a devastating punch that sent Dorn flying against the opposite wall. Cat gasped and dropped her conversation with Yoshimo to aid her friend with her healing magic while he struggled to move in order to search for an antidote in his backpack. Viconia helped to heal the tremendous wounds from the collision.

 

“I’m nearly out of healing spells, so be careful now,” she warned him with a stern glare that hid actual concern, at least to a degree.

 

“I’ll live,” he groaned as he got back to his feet and waited for the cloudkill to vanish in order to strike again.

 

He only had another antidote left, and even though Cat and Viconia had managed to patch him up just fine, he’d have to exercise extreme caution in order to vanquish the iron golem without dying in the process. Cat eyed him with worry, something that didn't seem to escape Yoshimo… yet his curiosity hadn't been sated yet.

 

“As for me believing you, I have seen many strange things in this land,” he said. “I have very little incredulity left in my mind.”

 

Cat clenched her jaw. Could he not see that it wasn't the proper moment for that kind of conversation?

 

As if reading her thoughts, the man turned his gaze to Dorn.

 

“I wouldn't worry, my friend,” he said as the blackguard took a more defensive stance, “I am certain he has everything under control. We just need to be patient, all of us.”

 

_ Easier said than done. Especially for Dorn. _

 

“While we are at it, would you care to indulge this overly curious adventurer with your tale?” Yoshimo requested the mage, with his glinting, partially golden grin.

 

“As you wish,” Cat sighed, deciding it would be best to trust Dorn's best judgement and survival instinct as the golem was, effectively, getting new cracks with each of his hits. “My father is the dead god Bhaal. He had premonitions of death before the Time of Troubles and arranged to have children. Sarevok and myself were the only two that I know of.”

 

“Bhaal? The god of murder?”

 

Technically, his portfolio had been much broader when he ascended, but his overconfidence and his obsession with murder over other ways of dying –perhaps he was not to blame, having been an assassin as a mortal– were ultimately his downfall.

 

“Yes,” Cat replied, cheerier this time upon seeing Dorn skillfully breaking a hole into the golem right before diving backwards to avoid another cloudkill. He was winning, slowly but surely.

 

“But there could be others? Other children of Bhaal?”

 

Had that question been poised before Cat found out everything Imoen had had to endure at Irenicus’ hands, she would have been more than happy to provide Yoshimo with as many false leads as it took for the mage to leave her the fuck alone, as he was far too powerful for her to defeat, at least right then. But he had gone too far. He had Imoen. The tremendous power that he wielded did not matter anymore; it was something personal.

 

And honestly, that conversation was tiring her.

 

“Why the sudden interest in Bhaal?”

 

“It is an interesting story, and I wish to hear more.”

 

“Then, in answer to your question, yes. There could be other children of Bhaal. I know of none, personally,” Cat replied in a tone that left it clear that she wanted the conversation to end as soon as possible.

 

“This was very interesting,” Yoshimo replied, scratching his goatee, clearly having caught Cat’s clue. “I shall have to think on it. Thank you.”

 

A deafening crash muffled his last words as the iron golem fell on its back, broken in pieces. Dorn stood before it, bleeding profusely from a wound on his side and panting from the herculean effort of taking down such a gigantic opponent. He quickly turned to the group.

 

“The small one is coming this way!”

 

Everyone sprung into action at the sight of the clay golem crossing the threshold, now free from its big brother’s blockage. Even with its hastened state, it was no match for the group's combined efforts. However, everyone was pretty battered from spending the whole day fighting their way through the castle. Especially Dorn, for obvious reasons. As she was walking back into Lady Caan's room, Cat turned to address her comrades.

 

“How about we take some more advantage of the lady’s lovely hospitality and get some rest before going to the lower levels?

 

* * *

The umber hulks could not be seen from the group’s position, but the huge insectoids’ clicking noises could definitely be heard from the next room, which according to Daleson, connected to the prison cells from which the monsters emerged and where they scarfed his dog stew as they brutally mauled to death whatever poor prisoners stood between them and their food. Cat took one last disgusted glance at the pot Hexxat was carrying. When they were done in that place, she’d make sure to advice Lord de'Arnise –or whoever would run the castle if he was indeed dead– to seal the entrance to that level and set fire to it. She nodded at Hexxat, and the vampire moved from shadow to shadow, concealing herself from view.

 

*~*~*

 

Even before undeath, Hexxat was a natural at stealth, and her current estate only enhanced such abilities to the point of making her almost invisible to the naked eye… and the strange creatures she now walked among were definitely not the observant type. However, she could not help but worrying that they might be able to smell her important cargo before she could place it somewhere that would allow the group to advance to the treasure room, the doors of which she could see from her current hiding spot next to a pilaster. Both her and Cat had commented on how downright idiotic it was to hide your treasure right where you locked up your prisoners, but if Lady Nalia de’Arnise was any indicator, her ancestors weren't exactly the brightest of minds.

 

The vampire took a look at the hallways that led to the cells… yes, that would probably be a good spot. According to Daleson, the umber hulks had already eaten there; perhaps they would stick to custom if she left the food exactly where they had devoured their former rations. Slow but confident, she slipped from corner to corner, almost fusing herself with the darkest spots of the barely lit room. In no time, she was at the cells. At the first ones, she saw what looked like rotting human remains, battered and broken beyond recognition. She definitely did not want to see herself at the other end of the umber hulks’ pincers. One of the cells, though, caught her attention; she could distinguish animal bones in it… and also brownish masses that looked like and reeked of what could only be umber hulk excrements. Covering her nose with a hand, she tiptoed into the cell and opened the lid of the pot. The clicking sounds of the umber hulks suddenly became louder and quicker, as if they were in a frenzy. Hexxat hurried out of the cell and concealed herself from view once again behind the corner of the pathways, watching in disgusted awe how the monsters devoured the stew, even fighting one another over the most tender pieces. Just like Daleson had said, nothing came between an umber hulk and its meal.  _ Nothing. _

 

Which meant she’d better be going before any of the creatures noticed her.

* * *

Hexxat came out from the door and signaled everyone to follow.

 

“I have locked the prison doors with the umber hulks still inside,” she informed Cat. “We are free to move now.”

 

“Hexxat, are you okay? You have gone pale,” the mage asked with concern.

 

The other woman shook her head.

 

“I just hope we never have to deal with those… things… ever again.”

 

Cat was about to ask how her mission had gone, but seeing the vampire in that state made her refrain from it. 

 

Spells and weapons ready, the group entered the treasure room, and were greeted by two giant trolls led by the most colossal one Cat had seen in her whole life. Its foggy, white eyes struck her immediately; he was blind. However, his nostrils flared in the moment the group crossed the room. Perhaps bathing in perfume hadn't been such a brilliant idea after all…

 

“I smell you… I do!” The troll growled. “You gradunk no be hiding from TorGal!”

 

“It is your sight that fails you,” Cat shot in defiance, bloodlust rising with the prospective of combat. “I will not hide from filth such as you. Come die, if you are brave enough!”

 

As she expected, he wasn't too inclined to cooperate.

 

“TorGal no die here! Only stupids who stay will die!” The troll leader replied. “Why you here? Too stupid to take gold and go with other grrthns?”

 

Cat blinked in surprise.

 

“You're telling me you actually bribed the guards into leaving the castle defenseless?”

 

“No TorGal; Stronger,” TorGal replied. “Stronger gives Rocksmash pack lands and food, and gives grrthns gold.”

 

So someone had bribed the de’Arnise guards into leaving the castle undefended from the troll invasion they also instilled? Now _ that _ was interesting.

 

“Who is this 'Stronger’ you speak of?” Cat demanded, unsure that she’d get any sort of straight answer.

 

“I tell nothing of Stronger! Should have taken Stronger’s gold like all small-head guards! Now you die!” TorGal roared for all response.

 

At that precise moment, Cat fred the fireball she had been preparing while conversing. It significantly damaged the trolls, but they did not recede in their advance towards her. She released a second fireball as she ran back to her companions. Despite the grunts and wails, all three trolls were still very much alive… and closer to her. Close enough, in fact, that she could not retreat in time to avoid TorGal’s claws. She screamed in pain when they scratched her back, leaving deep, bloody gashes. Fortunately, Viconia was by her side in a matter of seconds, healing her while Yoshimo cut off another attack from the troll leader by shooting a arrow of fire straight into his eye.

 

As TorGal howled in pain, Korgan and Dorn sprung into action, each facing one of the giant trolls which came behind him. Hexxat, in the meantime, concentrated and called for her children of the night; a pack of rats that bit TorGal's toes as she faced him with her short sword, invoking its special power to hasten herself. With her usual cat-like, graceful movements, she slashed off one of TorGal's hands. Viconia, now able to join the battle, murmured a prayer and made a flame strike consume the creature. His screams distracted his followers long enough for Dorn and Korgan to deal massive damage to them. Cat was especially attentive to Korgan’s troll, since the dwarf lacked the means to slay it for good. When it fell unconscious, she quickly summoned a flame arrow to finish it off. The other giant troll wasn't fairing much better; the Flail of Ages was truly a formidable weapon against them. Dorn was more than capable to slay the troll by himself, even though it cost him slash wounds that Viconia was quick to mend. Now, only TorGal remained. Yoshimo used his arrows of fire to weaken him, but he was still resisting. The troll was able to lift Korgan with his remaining hand and shove him against the nearest wall, with which he collided with a sickening crash. Viconia could barely catch a break, having to heal member after member of the party. As she raced to aid the dwarf, TorGal identified her as the offender who burned him alive and tried to grab her, too. Cat’s Melf’s acid arrow, though, corroded the troll’s palm down to the bone, preventing him from reaching the party's only healer. In the meantime, Dorn and Yoshimo accosted TorGal with a series of hits from the former's flail and some really well-aimed shots from the latter. Finally, the leader of the castle invaders fell unconscious. With one last flame arrow, Cat hit the troll’s heart, preventing his regeneration and ending his life.

 

Once Viconia made sure everyone was in good shape –sadly, Hexxat's rats didn't survive the battle–, the group inspected the treasure room. There, at the feet of a huge statue that represented the god Torm, laid Lord de'Arnise, dead. Viconia knelt beside him, and then shook her head.

 

“He was dead before we even arrived here,” she explained. “Resurrection is impossible at this state of decay.”

 

Oh, well… that was a minor inconvenience. Especially since Nalia, the new Lady of the lands, would still grant the adventurers their due payment for their services. Not to mention the treasures left in that same room, which Cat was quick to snatch. Now, they just had to confront Nalia about her father's fate, get paid, and get the Hells out of that place.

 

* * *

The young lady was understandably shaken by the news of her father's death. Delcia Caan was quick to step to her niece’s side to try to comfort her. Her usually cold eyes were suddenly brighter. It seemed that the uptight noblewoman had a heart, after all. When Nalia was able to compose herself, her visage was still shadowed by uncertainty.

 

“With Father dead… oh, what will become of me?”

 

Lady Delcia's features hardened.

 

“Surely you know your place, my niece,” she told the young woman in her usual authoritative tone. “You are betrothed to Isaea Roenall, and as my brother’s only daughter, you must honor this marriage.”

 

Nalia gave a long sigh.

 

“But Auntie, Isaea is a greedy snake! If I marry him, he will take hold of the keep and Father's lands!”

 

“Wait a minute,” Cat interrupted the family argument, completely disregarding Lady Delcia's death glare, “if you’re the heir to the keep and the lands, why would its ownership fall on your husband’s hands?”

 

Lady Delcia rolled her eyes at Cat's lack of knowledge about the Amnian feudal customs. Nalia, however, was quick to explain.

 

“Technically, the inheritance laws should work that way, but ownership always falls on male’s hands, which is why I must get married… not to mention the need for a new heir,” the noblewoman scrunched her nose at that last bit, as if the thought of procreating with Isaea Roenall was plain nauseating to her, which probably was, judging from what she said next. “But Roenall is a horrible man, who only cares about social status and making profit. I know he will milk the farmers and commoners to the last coin and patch of crop. He doesn't give a damn about their well-being, only their taxes!”

 

“Well… for a higher bit of profit, we could… take care of him,” Cat whispered into Nalia's ear, making sure she noticed the knives she hid under her sleeves.

 

The woman went pale.

 

“No! I mean… He’s an incredibly elitist, disagreeable man, but he’s not evil… not enough for something so drastic,” she looked downright scandalized by Cat's proposal. Her aunt glanced between the two women warily.

 

“Well, then there's nothing else we can do for you, I’m afraid,” Cat replied, stretching her arm for Nalia to hand her the due coins for her services.

 

“Right…” Nalia looked appalled. “I wish you were a fighter; if it were so, then we could exploit some more antique feudal laws.”

 

Cat blinked.

 

“What kind of antique feudal laws?”

 

“Well, they stem from… bloodier times,” Nalia explained. “A warrior who excelled in combat gained the right of ownership of whatever land he was defending. And he could pass on the rulership to a trusted counselor. The inheritance would still require a heir, but at least that way I would avoid Roenall—hey, are you listening?”

 

The witch was in deep thought. A fighter and a heir… if her memory and her general cognitive functionality didn't fail her, perhaps she’d be able to grant Nalia both… for the right price.

 

“If this… warrior tasked a counselor with the ruling of their lands, would they still receive their servants’ taxes?”

 

“Actually, the counselor gets thirty percent of the profit earned by tax money, which is usually enough for them to lead a comfortable life0… why does it matter, though?”

 

With a wide, cheshire grin, Cat patted a surprised Korgan on the shoulder.

 

“Well, Nalia, here's your fighter! You can grant him ownership of your feud and become her counselor so you can still rule everything the way you wished to do,” Cat announced to the two perplexed people.

 

“Well… if your companion… what was your name again?”

 

“Korgan Bloodaxe,” he supplied with a grunt. “Do ye want to make me into a fucking lord, Kitty?”

 

“Only by title,” Cat chuckled. “Nalia would run everything. But think of it; doesn't Lord Korgan Bloodaxe have a nice ring to it?”

 

“Well, aye it does…”

 

“Then problem solved!” Cat exclaimed, clapping her hands in excitement. “How often would Korgan be receiving his due money?”

 

“Taxes are usually collected monthly,” a more hopeful Nalia provided. “Right now, accounting for all of the feud’s servants and my part, that would leave him about five hundred gold pieces that he could come to collect at the beginning of each month.”

 

Cat and Korgan's eyes widened.

 

“Five hundred gold pieces?” They asked in unison.

 

Nalia nodded, then frowned.

 

“There's still the issue of inheritance… do you have any children, Korgan?”

 

“Not that I know of,” he replied between chuckles. Cat, Hexxat and Viconia rolled their eyes.

 

Nalia turned somber.

 

“I see… this complicates things. I am still going to need an heir.”

 

Korgan's eyes became wide like saucers, and his nose the same shade as the tomato-like crimson Lady Delcia now exhibited at the exchange taking place.

 

“Useless, long-legged mages are nae my type!” He claimed in indignation.

 

“We could find a way around this,” Cat intervened before Nalia or Lady Delcia could reply. “Do you guys remember that knight of Lathander who was looking for someone who would adopt this orphan girl?”

 

“Yes,” Dorn drawled in disdain. “You didn't allow me to kill either of them.”

 

“I actually wanted to take the girl to the Copper Coronet and have my assassins teach her how to use a knife!” Cat replied in her defense. “The girl had potential, I could see it in her eyes! You should trust me on this stuff!”

 

Nalia was considerably paler by that point.

 

“So… what happened to the girl?”

 

“She’s still with that knight, searching for a home,” Cat replied with a sly smile. “But if a certain noblewoman were so kind to adopt her… she’d get out of the streets and live a life of luxury beyond her wildest dreams, and you could teach her to be a righteous ruler… You could even have her receive martial training so she'd become a fighter in case being adopted gave her any ownership problems!”

 

Nalia's mouth went agape.

 

“Really? Could that really happen?”

 

“I’d just have to send the knight your way. Your family may worship a different god, but I’m sure he’ll find you ideal for the girl's upbringing.”

 

Then, before Cat could register what the Hells was happening, Nalia grabbed her and hugged her tightly, ignoring her aunt's protests.

 

“Thank you ever so much!” She exclaimed. “I shall change the life of that poor orphaned girl for the better… and I will, in turn, teach her to help those in greater need. It is a dream come true!”

 

With some effort, Cat slid off the mageling’s grip.

 

“Yeah, well, another thing,” she turned serious. “The leader of the trolls confessed to be working for someone else. He never said any name other than 'Stronger’, but he was very clear that this foe of yours was actually behind the attack, and even bribed some of your guards into leaving the castle undefended.”

 

“What? No… this cannot be…”

 

“It can, trust me,” Cat replied. “If you are to rule these lands, you’d better grow wiser, and do it quick. There will be others wanting to abuse the power you now hold, and those who won’t be as loyal as they've sworn to your father. So be on the watchout, and send a messenger if you ever need Korgan's presence. We should be able to take care of anything out of your own field of expertise.”

 

“Good,” Nalia nodded. “I will bear it in mind. Thank you for giving me this chance to keep my father’s lands and continue his just rule.”

 

As the group left, Viconia finally exploded.

 

“Male inheritance? In this place it is  _ males  _ who have preference over females?”

 

“I thought you’d have figured it out already,” Cat drawled. “It takes double the effort to get the same recognition as men… not to mention all of the power plays, cases of rape and abuse…”

 

“Whoever came up with such a way of organizing a society should definitely spend some time in the Underdark,” Viconia spat, hateful.

 

“I’m pretty sure most surface males would feel that way if they were to step in those lands,” Cat replied with a chuckle. “Why not reaching a balance? Equal opportunities for everyone to seize power. You would just need to be strong enough.”

 

“Hmm… that sounds like a possible future plan. Or is it just my impression?” The Sharran priestess commented with a smirk.

 

For all response, Cat smirked back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from Secret Love by Doris Day. I'm really getting into vintage music lately. The dreamy melody doesn't fit this gritty pair too much, but the lyrics are just exactly what Cat is feeling... except she is too stupid to acknowledge it for what it is.
> 
> I hope you liked this chapter. I'm really tired, so I'll be brief. I'll update as soon as possible, I hope you leave your feedback, it really makes my day and gives me strength to go on writing. See you next time!


	8. Raising Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat conspires to bring the Harpers and the Zentharim into a full blown war, but in the meantime she must tend to issues within her group that are affecting their dynamics. Mainly, a racist dwarf who doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! I know it's kind of shorter than the previous ones, but I felt that I needed to part what I had already written into two parts. I hope you enjoy this one!

_ Now I am the violence _

_ I am the sickness _

_ Won't accept your silence _

_ Beg me for forgiveness _

_ I am the people _

_ I am the storm _

_ I am the riot _

_ I am the swarm _

_ What are you going to do when there's blood in the water? _

 

* * *

 

With her purse noticeably heavier, Cat left the de’Arnise lands in a much better mood than when she arrived to them. Korgan –no,  _ Lord  _ Korgan– had begrudgingly agreed to split the benefits he would receive each month for the ownership of the castle. After all, he could not deny his strange tendency to waste his own money in the weirdest and most useless assortments of clothing, accessories and decorative elements whenever he got drunk and loose at Waukeen’s Promenade. So entrusting part of his gold to Cat was the best, most reasonable way to avoid such an inconvenience.

 

Speaking of inconveniences, no sooner than they left Nalia's home behind, walking along the pretty prairies behind the thick forest with the sun already reaching its zenith, something strange, and definitely not good, happened. Hexxat, who was trekking with her usual impassiveness, suddenly stopped and… became not so impassive.

 

“No—godsdammit, no, not now—ahh! AHH!!”

 

Everybody paused at the sudden screams and smoke. Cat hurried to the vampire's side, followed by an unsure Viconia. Of course, she could heal Hexxat's wounds, but as a cleric, the extent of her ability to help an undead woman was reasonably questionable.

 

“Hexxat?” Cat called, trying to reach out with a hand for the panting woman, who was now on her knees.

 

“I’m fine,” she replied in an unusually brusque tone while she struggled to get back on her feet. “Let’s just… let's just continue.”

 

“That's a lot of smoke for someone who’s fine,” Cat commented, raising an eyebrow. She was the leader; it was her duty to take due care of those who followed her, so she would not have the vampire's cheap excuses.

 

“I’m just a little singed. Leave me be,” the woman muttered.

 

Cat groaned. Her companions could be absurdly stubborn when it came to self-care. That was something she would have to enforce, for their sake and that of her fleeting sanity.

 

“No. I don't think so,” Cat grabbed Hexxat by the shoulders, and she immediately flinched and jumped back, as if in pain. “What happened?”

 

Hexxat sighed. Finally, she understood there was no way to escape Cat’s grilling.

 

“The cloak’s magic faltered. For a moment, I was exposed to the sun.”

 

“It stopped working? Do you know why?” The mage asked, genuinely worried about Hexxat's well-being after that troubling revelation.

 

“No,” Hexxat admitted. “It’s… worrisome.”

 

“It sure as Hells is! As soon as we’re back, I’m going to take a look at your cloak and see if I can figure out what's wrong,” Cat replied.

 

Hexxat smiled weakly. However brief, the exposition to the sun had really affected her, and not just physically.

 

“Thank you, Cat.”

* * *

Much to Cat’s alarm, the Copper Coronet was a lot emptier than it usually was upon her return. She quickly approached Bernard.

 

“What happened here? Where are all the patrons?”

 

The man gave her a sympathetic look.

 

“The Mithrest Inn and the Den of the Seven Dales have considerably lowered the prices of their food and drinks, respectively,” he replied. “They noticed our business was beginning to attract the middle class clients that used to belong to them. Not to mention that all the upper class has stopped coming since… ahem…”

 

“Since I slaughtered every single assistant to the gladiator combats,” Cat finished for the anxious server. “You can say it. I have no regrets about it… but I honestly thought we’d get their attention with the voluntary entertainment.”

 

“Therein lies the problem, my dear Lady,” Bernard replied with a sad smile. “Nobles aren’t used to getting 'no’ for an answer… which is something that is bound to happen when others are given freedom of choice.”

 

Truth be told, nobility was a secondary worry for Cat. She already had her specialized employees seducing the unwary nobles into gifting them expensive wares that they could then sell in the black market. But she was quite ready to make the leap into attracting the middle class; the commoners, artisans and merchants who could further enhance her finances… and her faith. So that was a problem she’d need to look into as soon as possible. And then, she’d go straight into the guts of the city and the slave trade still taking place in there. Two infiltration missions, and then right into action. That was something she could work with. But first, there was a more pressing matter.

 

“Hexxat, let's take a look at your cloak, shall we?”

 

The thief nodded and followed Cat into her laboratory. Dorn began to imitate her, but the mage halted him with a wave of her hand.

 

“Whatever secrets the Cloak of Dragomir holds, they are only for Hexxat to know,” she said, tired of Dorn's mistrust. “You can respect that, can’t you?”

 

The blackguard's lips formed a tight line, only cut by his protruding tusks. He was looking at Cat as if seriously considering murdering the woman beside her. The witch stood her ground, staring at him in the eye and waiting for his reply.

 

“Alright,” he finally hissed. “But don’t come back crying to me if she bites you.”

 

“Worry not, Dorn,” Hexxat replied with a sly smile. “I won't bite her unless she wants me to.”

 

Cat could almost feel the physical effort Dorn was putting into not unsheathing his greatsword to tear the vampire to pieces. She rubbed her temples and eyes as she felt the imminent migrain. Could those two at least  _ pretend  _ not to hate each other’s guts for one single day?

 

As the two women disappeared into the long corridor that led to her laboratory, Cat heard Dorn roaring that he would be challenging anyone into the fighting pit. She almost felt bad for whoever answered to his call. Best case scenario, no one would and he would be off to kill some priest at the temple district to appease both his own anger and his patron's hunger. Why wouldn't he learn that Cat could take care of herself just fine? Was it because of the aftermath of that nightmare that he witnessed that he again felt compelled to protect her from any harm, real or imaginary? Back at the siege of Dragonspear, it had felt kind of endearing, but right then she had too many worries in her head to also have to watch out for him not getting in trouble on account of “keeping her safe”.

 

Casting those thoughts aside, the mage entered her laboratory and let Hexxat in, closing the heavy door behind them. She signaled the thief to sit at the same table where she would be working. The vampire handed her the Cloak of Dragomir and sat, her brown eyes fixated on Cat as the witch smiled awkwardly.

 

“Can you… uh… bring Viconia?”

 

Though still rather well preserved, the dead Harper whose blood she had been examining to determine the kind of poison that ultimately killed him was beginning to become stiff. As if a few hours had passed since he died. After a few moments, the priestess was there to cast a spell to further preserve the body. Cat would have to make that trip to the Harpers’ headquarters sooner than she had expected.

 

“Some drunk adventurer has been foolish enough to answer to Dorn's challenge for the pit,” the priestess informed the other two women with a malicious grin before leaving them. “It's going to be quite a show, so I’ll be on my way.”

 

Once Viconia was gone and the corpse was fresh once more, Cat sat at her work desk and began to inspect Hexxat's cloak. She first looked for any possible holes or cuts that could have let the sunlight in, to see if she could discard the thief's theory of magic malfunction, which would be a lot more complicated to solve. After turning it over and over and poring into the smallest details, from the ample hood that hid most of Hexxat's visage when worn to the hem of the piece of clothing –decorative black feathers and elaborate brooch to keep it closed included– Cat concluded that the cloak had suffered no physical damage, which was quite a feat, considering Hexxat had had to fight in it on several occasions. So off to the magical examination it was.

 

The tracks of the protection spell weaved into the cloak were almost invisible to the naked eye, and downright impossible to identify unless said eye had…  _ an eye  _ for the arcane. Cat followed the thin silvery threads, trying to make out their patterns. It was complex magic at work, its shape a little unusual, which probably had to do with the fact that it had been designed for a vampire. There was necromancy of some sort at play, that much was for sure. But it was… faded?

 

“I think I know what the problem is,” Cat said, turning to Hexxat.

 

The thief had an intense look in her eyes. Cat had been feeling her stare as she worked, focused on her, rather than her precious cloak. It was a tad distracting, but she had let her be. As long as she didn't interrupt her work, Hexxat could stare all she wanted.

 

After a moment, the vampire spoke.

 

“You sure you want to do this, Cat?”

 

“Uh… yes?” What kind of question was that? Of course she wanted to try to restore the fading magic of the cloak!

 

“You could come to regret it.”

 

Before Cat had a chance to ask her why the Hells she would regret fixing the cloak that allowed Hexxat to survive a walk under the sunlight, the vampire grabbed the mage's chin between two frosty fingers and leaned in her head, as if to kiss her.  _ Very much _ as if to kiss her.

 

“Uh…” Cat managed to say, stopping Hexxat by placing a finger on her lips. They were really soft to the touch, despite their coldness. In fact, Cat didn't really feel bothered by the woman's body temperature. Irenicus had felt much worse. “I’m guessing you weren't speaking about me fixing your cloak.”

 

Hexxat reclined into her chair, leaving Cat some much needed space after the strange occurrence. She had an eyebrow raised, as if questioning the witch's confusion.

 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know that look well.”

 

Cat sighed, trying in vain to comb through the black knots of her hair. True, she had looked at Hexxat… the same way she looked at all attractive men and women who crossed her path. That didn't mean anything except aesthetic appreciation –okay, perhaps physical attraction, too, but that didn't mean she would act on it, and right then that specific area of her life was complicated enough without Hexxat added to the equation.

 

“I think you must be mistaken,” Cat apologized with a polite smile. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

 

Compared to most of the people she rejected, Hexxat took it really well.

 

“I guess I was,” she replied with a smile that matched Cat’s. “A pity.”

 

After that, the pair turned silent. Cat focused on the lines of the cloak, and pointed one at Hexxat, dragging her nail across it.

 

“Can you see them? There's necromantic magic weaved into this cloak,” she explained as Hexxat watched closely. “But it’s fading. Whoever enchanted the cloak wasn't powerful enough for their magic to last, but I can read the patterns, and I should be able to replicate them.”

 

“Good,” Hexxat sighed in relief.

 

“Now, let me concentrate for a moment—”

 

As soon as Cat’s fingertips came into contact with the flowing magic, she yanked them back with a yelp. She had felt something… like her life was being drained. She turned her hand to look at her fingertips; they had marks similar to burns. She immediately understood what that meant. That was more than just necromancy.

 

There was necrotic energy in that cloak.

 

“Uh… I have kind of bad news,” Cat said, turning to Hexxat. “The person who made this cloak for Dragomir used the vampire's arcane power to enchant it, instead of their own. He probably couldn't use some of the components of the enchantment by himself due to his state of undeath, or perhaps he didn't know the formula…”

 

“So you can’t fix it?” Hexxat cut her off. Straight to the point, as usual.

 

“I can patch it up with an enchantment of my own, but by no means will it be a permanent solution,” Cat replied, looking down in shame at failing her companion. Magic was her forte, and yet there was little she could do. Her main strengths didn't do much good lately. “Maybe if you ask a lich nicely…”

 

Even with her lame and probably uncalled for attempt at humor, Hexxat was surprisingly calm about it.

 

“That's good enough for me.”

 

After she “repaired” the cloak, Cat left the laboratory with Hexxat in tow. As they were crossing the threshold into the tavern, a deafening, unholy screech stopped both women right in their tracks.

 

“YOU VITH’EZ FA’LA ZATOAST! HOW DARE YOU!”

 

A shroud of darkness enveloped a slender figure not too far from them.

 

They heard the sound of weapons being unsheathed.

 

“KORGAN, VICONIA, NO!”

* * *

_ A few minutes earlier… _

 

Viconia stirred the sugar in her cup of black tea with a tiny spoon as she watched Dorn gutting his rival in the fighting pit, getting himself covered in blood from head to toe. She had managed to shut Yoshimo and the annoying  _ darthirii _ bard’s advances on her, but there was no one else around to converse with. Except, of course, for Korgan, whose booming laugh as he watched the bloodshed in the pit hurt her sensitive ears. She decided to speak to him, if only to ease her boredom after Dorn's quick victory and spare her ears at least some degree of suffering.

 

“Korgan, I’m interested in whether your clan has ever had interaction with House DeVir?” She asked. “It seems to me, if memory serves, that our sphere of influence was quite close to your Bloodaxe clan’s stronghold near Talthalra Wern’nt Szithla Har’oloth.”

 

Korgan turned to her very slowly, spat on the floor and glared at her.

 

“Nae speak that vile tongue to me, blackskin,” he growled. “If it moves, I’ve killed it, but if it be drow, I’ve tortured it fer days first. As fer that House of yers, I burned it and relieved meself on the embers and dead. And the necklace of dark-elf ears fetched me a king’s ransom in Waterdeep.”

 

For a split second, Viconia just stayed in stunned silence, Korgan's words feeling like a slap in the face. But then, outrage made its way up to her head faster than the dwarf could register, and the boiling hot contents of her cup were all over his face. He screamed and covered his visage with his hands as she stood and claimed her goddess’ holy power. That offense would  _ not  _ go unanswered.

 

“YOU VITH’EZ FA’LA ZATOAST! HOW DARE YOU!”

 

She felt the dark embrace of Shar giving her strength as she drew her mace. By that time, Korgan had stood too, and was grabbing his axe with a guttural growl. Would he go berserker on her? Let him try, she would smite him with her divine powers and—

 

“KORGAN, VICONIA, NO!”

 

*~*~*

 

Cat looked between her two warring companions, bewildered and enraged. Why couldn't she leave them alone without something like that happening?

 

“WHAT IN THE NINE HELLS IS GOING ON HERE?”

 

“He started it,” Viconia drawled, pointing at Korgan with her mace.

 

“I DON'T CARE WHO STARTED IT! WE’RE ABOUT TO HAVE SOME VERY SERIOUS WORDS, ALL OF US! TO MY ROOM,  _ NOW _ !”

 

There was no disobeying Cat when she used  _ that  _ tone. After glaring at each other, Viconia and Korgan sheathed their weapons and followed her leader into her bedchambers. Yoshimo and Hexxat followed close. Dorn quickly caught up with everyone, having heard the screams as if they had been shouted in his ears. Inside her chambers, she made Viconia and Korgan explain their deplorable behavior. After hearing their recounting of the events, she crossed her arms, glared at them and called in the first official session of group dynamics.

 

“Why the Hells are we doing this thing of yers, again?” Korgan asked, sitting on the floor, as Cat had forbidden everyone to enjoy her cushions while the situation wasn't solved.

 

“Because some of you are behaving like racist shits, and I’m having none of it!” Cat exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she paced around the room, furious. “And by 'some of you’ I mean you, Korgan!”

 

“Why? Because of the damned blackskin?” He shot back, pointing at a frowning Viconia who was seating as far from him as possible, with Hexxat close by.

 

“Should I feel offended by that, as well?” The vampire intervened, stretching her long, slender limbs and casting the dwarf a dark stare. “Because many humans with pale skin use similar terms to insult us Chultans.”

 

Korgan was actually smart enough to think twice before angering  _ that  _ woman.

 

“I could nae care any less about ye Chultans!” He brushed the issue off with a flick of his hand. “It’s them drow I cannae stand.”

 

“Don’t think we are too fond of you either,  _ rul’selozan hargluk.” _

 

“Okay, I am also totally NOT standing for drow slurs!” Cat shouted, standing between the dwarf and the drow with her hands balled into fists.

 

“I already told you, he started it,” Viconia insisted.

 

“I don't care! That's not how you respond to racism!”

 

“And what would  _ you  _ know,  _ rivvin? _ ” The priestess hissed. “You were never judged as evil on sight like I am.”

 

“Perhaps not on sight,” Cat sighed, “but as long as my heritage goes, everyone who knows automatically judges me as evil, if not an immediate threat to be destroyed… except for very few people, like the lot of you.”

 

That actually managed to silence the quarreling pair. Cat huffed, and got ready for her lecture.

 

“So your races have battled and hated each other for centuries, and probably none of them remembers who started it anymore.”

 

“It was the bloody drow,” Korgan replied.

 

“It was the dwarves,” Viconia retorted.

 

“See what I mean?” Cat threw her arms up in exasperation. “And yet here you are, working together in a group. Let me stress the word  _ together. _ ”

 

Her green glare darted from one to another, making sure they knew how utterly pissed she was at the moment.

 

“And not only that. You are working together to  _ survive. _ All of us are. I have been hunted down by assassins from the very same day I set foot out of Candlekeep, and now there are two guilds, two powerful organizations and a council of conceited mages ready to stomp on me if I make ONE single mistake in my plans,” she continued. “Dorn has been discriminated because of his mixed heritage practically since he was born,  _ both by orcs and humans. _ Yoshimo is a Kara-Turan, and is constantly mocked, if not downright threatened due to his features and accent. Viconia… I guess I don't need to remind anyone how we found her last time, and how many more people in the surface would want to burn her alive. The surname Bloodaxe is not short of enemies, from what I hear, not to mention how much people love to tease and bully dwarves, halflings and gnomes because of their height. And Hexxat… even if she wasn't a vampire, she would still be looked down on because of the color of her skin. Don’t you see it? We are outcasts,  _ all of us _ . Nobody wants us around. That's why we must stick together, and in order to do so we need to stop calling out and insulting one another and begin to at least  _ pretend _ to be civilized! Have I made myself clear?”

 

Everybody nodded in silence.

 

“Any more questions?”

 

Dorn raised his hand.

 

“Are we going to do something with that body?” He asked, pointing at the dead Harper.

 

Cat smiled.

 

“Well, in fact, it’s about time I paid Jaheira a visit,” she replied as she prompted everyone to get up and follow. “And remember, people,  _ as a team.” _

* * *

The docks were just as decadent as the slums, with the occasional shady merchant and the ships at the sea being the only real difference. Many of the wooden houses were half rotten and in varying states of abandonment. Some had their doors and windows blocked, but an expert eye would be able to make out a secret side entrance concealed with thick wall painting. Yoshimo became noticeably tense, and patted Cat on the shoulder, exhibiting a nervous grin.

 

“My friend, since we are coming to this place, I should inform you that the Shadow Thieves’ headquarters are located here.”

 

“I already knew that. What of it?” Did he seriously think Cat would not investigate her rivals’ whereabouts?

 

“Well, the thing is… I  _ might  _ have a slight… quarrel with Renal Bloodscalp,” Yoshimo confessed, so nervous he actually began to sweat, “And I  _ might  _ need to do some work for him as proof of my goodwill. He doesn't take it kindly on… freelancers, you know.”

 

Go talk to the leader of one the very organizations she was trying to bring down? That sounded like a crazy idea. Crazy enough to work. It would allow her really valuable insight on the guild’s assets.

 

“Very well, I will consider it,” Cat replied, “but right now we have other matters to tend to.”

 

Soon, they reached the orange building. Truth be told, it was huge compared to the insignificant shacks in its surroundings. Honestly, Harpers really sucked at secrecy. The guard at the door eyed the group questioningly, but his eyes widened when Dorn presented him with his comrade’s corpse –it took some convincing for him to carry the body bridal style and not over his shoulder, but they needed to at least pretend to be respectful if they were to gain access to the quarters.

 

“Renfeld… what happened to him?”

 

“He was assaulted by assassins,” Cat explained with a grave tone and expression that could have fooled her companions, had they not known any better. “We fought them, but he was poisoned. We did everything in our power to save him, but… we arrived too late.”

 

“That's terrible,” the guard gasped in shock, visibly hurt by his associate’s passing. “Hand me the body, please. He was a good man, and deserves a proper ceremony and burial.”

 

“Of course,” Cat motioned Dorn to comply. “Now, I don't mean to pry, but I happen to know what purpose this place serves. I know one of your agents; a woman called Jaheira. May I speak to her? There are a few details about this Renfeld’s death that I wish to discuss with her.”

 

The guard was shocked to hear those words, and his expression immediately grew suspicious. It was okay; Cat expected just as much from such a secretive organization and its agents. None of the Harpers she came to meet in her life, including her own damn foster father, bothered to tell her about their involvement with the group; she had found out on her own.

 

“I see no reason why you couldn't just tell me,” he replied, haughty.

 

Time to pay mistrust back in kind. However, Cat did so with a smile and politeness… and blatant lies.

 

“I’m sorry, but we have just met. What I have to tell my… acquaintance is a rather delicate issue that I would not confide to just anyone. I  _ know  _ Jaheira to be worthy of my trust, and I  _ know  _ she will do the right thing with the information I possess.”

 

The man sighed and shifted the body he was now carrying to open the door for his “guests”, who followed him into the hall of the building. Cat did everything in her power not to roll her eyes at the sight that greeted her. Really, Harpers needed an urgent lesson in subtlety… and humility. Checkered floors in black and white marble? Columns of the same material, embellished with intricate patterns? And let's not get started with those capitals representing the many good deities that favored the organization. Also, there were lots and lots of harps. For a moment, she felt tempted to stop and try one; they were beautiful. Back in Candlekeep, Gorion had taught her to play it, and though she could not weave magic into her melodies like bards did, she could still play some pretty mean tunes. Now she realized those rather agreeable lessons had all just been part of Gorion's plan to “reform” her and “purge” her from the evil coursing within her veins… and to shape her into a Harper like him, if he could. He had never been one to give much thought to Cat's own choices and wishes. Suddenly, the place put her in a sour mood, and she felt the now old familiar rage scratching against her mind.

 

**_Kill them. Every single one of them. Revel in their agony and bathe in their blood._ **

 

_ Not the time,  _ she thought back, gritting her teeth.

 

Some of the Harpers gasped upon seeing their dead comrade's body, and quickly reached to the group. The guard asked them to prepare him for his parting ceremony, and to take the people with him to Jaheira’s quarters. The present Harpers looked at one another, not bothering to hide their concern and suspicion.

 

_ Looks like these people are just as worthy of your trust as I am, Jaheira. _

 

One of them guided the adventurers up a set of stairs that led to endless pathways and closed doors. Their sleeping quarters, probably. The Harper strode to the left, stopped at one of the doors and knocked. It opened just the right amount for Jaheira's glinting eyes to peer out and see who the Hells was bothering her. Those eyes were reddened; she was, of course, still grieving Khalid.

 

“You have visitors. They brought Renfeld's corpse to us and insisted to speak to you,  _ and only you,  _ about the matter,” the Harper announced in a rather dry tone. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Jaheira didn't have many friends in the organization, and that it was probably her ties with Gorion and Khalid that kept her there. Of course; headstrong women like her who always voiced their opinion were not a welcome presence in a group so focused on harmony. In that moment, Cat almost felt bad for having left her to her own devices. Almost.

 

The Harper left them alone so they could speak privately. Jaheira blinked several times upon registering it was Cat who had come to her. Then, she noticed her companions, and frowned.

 

“For a moment, I was hopeful that you had finally come to your senses, but I see that it’s clearly not the case.”

 

“Relax, Jaheira,” Cat drawled. “I am here in good faith. Now, may we come in so we can speak privately? I don't trust that there won’t be anyone spying on us right now.”

 

The druid’s face revealed agreement, but she concealed it with her usual stern, brusque tone.

 

“Come in.”

 

Her quarters were much simpler than the outrage happening at the hall. A small bed with regular cotton sheets, a wardrobe and a desk, everything made from cheap pine wood. No belongings other than a backpack leaning against the bed, as well as a closed journal, a simple gray quill and a bottle of ink on the desk. Cat noticed she still wore the spider silk necklace she had helped Khalid make for her. The witch tried not to remember his fate, for fear of having her anger slip out of control.

 

“What is it?” Jaheira demanded, crossing her arms, impatient to be done with whatever she was to be told.

 

“After your companion died, I… took some liberties,” Cat explained. “I took a sample of his blood and analyzed the poison, since nothing Viconia did would work on him.”

 

“And why do you want to tell me something like this in private?” Jaheira protested. “This concerns all Harpers!”

 

“I guess it does, but are you certain you can trust all of them? That they share your same interest in balance?”

 

Silence. Jaheira averted her gaze. Cat suppressed a triumphant smile.

 

“So what did you find out?”

 

“Zenthish poison,” Cat replied, letting a moment of silence for her words to sink in before speaking again. “I am guessing this unfortunate comrade of yours was ambushed by some of them. I honestly didn't know at the moment, we just dispatched them and tended to him.”

 

“Zenthish?” The Harper gasped. She began to pace around the room, nervous. “Those bastards! I knew they were up to something.”

 

Cat had the feeling that she knew exactly who Jaheira was talking about.

 

“We caught Montaron trying to sneak into our quarters,” she went on. “I wanted to question him, but my… superior ordered to kill him on sight. He thought it would bring other possible agents to us, so we could prepare a trap for them. Perhaps it was Montaron's plan to poison us all along…”

 

Jaheira ceased her pacing and looked at Cat straight in the eye, as if trying to look through her.

 

“We hid his body in the upper floor,” she sighed. “I don’t know the details of the trap my superior in these quarters wants to set for the remaining Zhents, but if Montaron has any of that poison on him, maybe I could investigate it to come up with an antidote…”

 

The woman paused to rub her temples. She looked beyond frustrated.

 

“We shouldn't have killed him. Our presence in this city lacks power; the last thing we need is a quarrel with the Zhents, but it seems my superior doesn't share my views…” She paused for a moment, and then locked eyes with Cat. “Alright. It's decided. I shall leave to our Tethyrian headquarters, I am certain they will be more reasonable. Have this necklace; it will allow you access to the second floor.”

 

Cat took an amulet with the symbol of the Harpers from the druid's hand and put it around her neck. She didn't expect that turn of events, but things were definitely looking good.

 

“If you can find an extract of the poison, bring it to me. I don't think we are going to need the body, so you may dispose of it as you see fit,” Jaheira finished in her usual commanding tone that Cat despised so much.

 

However, she showed no signs of displeasure on that occasion.

 

“Alright, we’ll help you with that,” she agreed, “but once you’re out of Athkatla, we want nothing to do with this organization of yours.”

 

“Fear not, it won't be the case,” Jaheira replied in disdain. “I shall inform my superior of the existence of the poison and my intention to work on an antidote. That will buy me an excuse to leave Amn. From then on, the Harpers will keep our problems to ourselves, be sure of it.”

 

“Great, because I’d hate to somehow become involved in an international conflict inside a third nation that isn't even my place of origin,” Cat droned, crossing her arms in defiance.

 

After the warrior druid dismissed the group, however, the witch had to repress a snort.

 

“Oh, this is golden,” she chuckled. “Let’s go see if good old Monty had any other poison on him than the one in his tongue. I wish you guys had met him, really.”

 

The upper floor was just as ludicrously luxurious as the first, except there were actual gold statues representing notable Harpers as well, as well as a fresco painting of the night sky on the ceiling. Cat immediately understood why Jaheira instructed her to wear the amulet. At the center of the room, there was a congregation of spirits that turned to her with hostile looks, only to stop in their tracks when they saw she wore the necklace.

 

“Alright, guys, I think you’ll need to wait downstairs for this,” she whispered to her companions.

 

The others obliged, and the woman searched around the room. There were some chests, many filled with coins and gems that Cat wasted no time in taking, seeing that their spiritual guardians saw her as one of them. Then, she found a particularly large wooden box. She opened it to find Montaron's dead body, pale and slightly swollen. For some reason, she didn't feel surprised by the fact that he smelled better dead than when he was still living. After searching in his pockets, she found several vials of the same poison she had been able to synthesize from Renfeld's blood. Luckily, she had brought a vial of her own. She placed Montaron's poison back in the pockets where she found it and retrieved hers instead. Jaheira could make do with any of the recipes, but she would need Montaron's rather than hers for what she was going to do next.

 

After handling Jaheira the vial, the group left the building. She told them that her group suspected the Zhents were established somewhere north of their quarters, but so far they had been too elusive for them to intervene. Just like all do-gooders; they complained about the evil surrounding them but did nothing against if it meant somehow breaking their stupidly strict code of conduct, which ultimately made them completely inefficient in situations such as the one they now faced. Not that Cat cared; in fact the organization's incompetence would actually prove beneficial to her.

 

There were several half ruined houses at one of the perpendicular streets from the one that led to the Harpers’ headquarters. All of them had their windows blocked with wooden planks… but not their doors? Upon closing in, Cat perceived magic streaming from one of the houses. She pointed at it, and Hexxat and Yoshimo quickly worked on finding any possible traps. There weren't. How strange. After picking the lock, the group made itself welcome… at Xzar's hiding place.

 

“IT’S THEM! THE HARPERS! TO THEM, MY MINIONS—Oh, Cat?”

 

Xzar's “minions” were a group of mages, likely his apprentices, who appeared way more afraid of him than of the group who just busted into their secret quarters. Which was saying something. The necromancer had a way of spooking people, and his constant mood swings made him completely unpredictable. Still, Cat trusted that he would listen and do the most reasonable thing. Which was to say, the most profitable thing  _ for her. _

 

“I heard you were hiding somewhere over here,” she greeted him with a warm smile.

 

Xzar's eyes widened.

 

“The Harpers? Did they send you? They found Monty, didn't they? Ohhh, I’LL EAT THEIR LIVERS AND PLUCK THEIR EYES OUT!”

 

“Will you eat them too?” Cat asked, genuinely curious. Everything was possible with him.

 

The necromancer stared at her as if she had just destroyed his most prized possession and used it to kill the person he cared about the most. Or maybe just as if she were a talking rabbit.

 

“No! That's so disgusting, why would you suggest something like that?”

 

Cat shrugged.

 

“I once met a priestess of Cyric who claimed eyes taste great after roasting them,” that turned the necromancer's disgust into curiosity, and the witch knew she had just created a monster. Whatever. “As for your concerns, I did infiltrate the Harpers’ headquarters, but I am not working for them. They did catch Montaron, I’m afraid.”

 

She proceeded to extract him from Dragomir's Respite. Hexxat gasped.

 

“Cat! Did you seriously put him in  _ my _ coffin?”

 

“Hey, this guy was an old friend of mine, he deserves some respect, so I wasn't just going to shove him into the bag where he might get cut by the weapons I’m carrying,” Cat defended herself.

 

“M-Monty?”

 

During her time with Irenicus, Cat had learned a great deal about the afflictions of the brain. Mainly while he searched for any signs of those in her own brain as he mumbled to himself and she screamed in pain. She now understood that Xzar was, in fact, a deeply traumatized individual –no matter how ruthless or evil he could be–, and the strange happenings during their short travel together when his voice would change and he’d literally cling to her and called her his mother as he cried were actually childhood regressions, likely triggered by something that scared him too much for him to deal with, such as being wounded in battle. It was a means his broken mind had to protect itself. Of course, he had many other mental ailments, likely caused by his magic experiments, as there were too many and they were too unrelated to be a simple product of trauma. In any case, the man was reduced to high-pitched sobbing as he held his companion’s body, which seemed to confirm Cat’s hypothesis about the necromancer’s mental state; as he would often voice his profound dislike of the halfling and would only show affection of any kind towards him during his regressions. Maybe, deep down, there was a part of him that did care for Montaron?

 

“I am so sorry for your loss, Xzar.”

 

“My what?”

 

The necromancer had recovered his usual baritone, and was now staring at the corpse in his arms with complete indifference. Suddenly, he ran the sleeve of his robe through his face to dry the tears, rubbing and rubbing until the skin reddened.

 

“Ugh, not again! I hate it when my eyes sweat!” He then registered the body and found the unused vials of poison, which proved Cat's words about not being associated to the Harpers to be true. He snapped his fingers, and the wizards gingerly watching the scene unfolding immediately approached him, a sense of dread written all over their faces. “Dispose of his body. I don't want to see this disgusting creature ever again.”

 

“C-can’t we reanimate it to use it against the Harpers?” One of the mages suggested, stammering like Khalid used to do.

 

Xzar stood up, murmured some words and then slapped the mage across the face, leaving a dark mark behind. A vampiric touch slap. Clever.

 

“Disgusting as he may have been, this man was my  _ friend!”  _ He exploded. “So get his body out of here and throw it to the sea so the fishes eat his insides like he deserves!”

 

“Y-yes, master.”

 

Two of the mages then grabbed the body and carried it to a backdoor that a third mage opened for them.

 

“What are you going to do now, Xzar?” Cat inquired.

 

“Well, since I prevented the blame for the iron crisis from falling on the Zhentarim—”

 

“You mean _ I  _ did,” Cat interrupted him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Unimportant technicalities,” Xzar waved his hand dismissively. “The fact is that Montaron and I received much praise from our superiors after our return, and our influence in our organization has grown. An open aggression like this one cannot go unpunished.”

 

“You technically attacked them first,” Cat commented.

 

“Unimportant technicalities!” Xzar shouted. “I will have more of our units sent to Amn, to deal with this Harper infestation. The problem is, indeed, bigger than we anticipated.”

 

“I agree,” Cat said. “I wish you the best of luck, Xzar.”

 

“I will not need it. The skulls of the Harpers will soon be adorning my new quarters in Zhentil Keep,” he chuckled uncontrollably, and his subordinates instinctively recoiled, afraid that he might kill any of them in his stupor.

 

“Well then, my business here is finished,” Cat announced. “See  you around, Xzar.”

 

The man suddenly stopped laughing and locked his unnaturally big eyes with the witch's, his expression uncharacteristically serious.

 

“Oh, no, you won't. I don't want to be seeing any more of you, so begone.”

* * *

Cat hummed a cheery tune to herself on her way back to the Copper Coronet. She was to ask Hendak to have more rooms ready, as there was sure to be a heavy income of refugees from the docks district, and she'd rather prevent them from choosing the Ilmater shrine just north of the inn. Not one, but two wars were brewing in Athkatla, and if Sarevok had been right about his theories on how to achieve divinity, not only would she be strengthened by the bloodshed to come, but she would also gain a great number of followers.

 

It was a good day.

 

At least until one of the former concubines rushed into the inn, completely out of breath and desperately calling for Cat.

 

“Lady… it’s Shantir…” she panted. “We… we went to the circus at Waukeen's Promenade on a date, and when it was time for the illusionist’s performance, something happened… everything turned into shadows, there were monsters everywhere… I lost her in the confusion, I fear she might have been turned into a monster…” The woman turned to sobbing. “Please, dear Lady, save her.”

 

Cat kneeled beside the woman and cradled her face in her hands, in a loving gesture.

 

“Fear not,” she whispered. “Shantir's time has yet to come. I will save her.”

 

Then she stood, nodded at her companions and left for Waukeen's Promenade.

 

It was going to be a longer day than Cat had expected.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from Blood /// Water by grandson. Cat is kind of accidentally? fighting corruption and all the organizations that rule Athkatla, but her motives are less than pure.
> 
> As I said before, this chapter is kind of shorter than average for this part of the series. It's because I thought the circus part would fit better with the next part, because it's better tied down to the next events that transpire -also, don't worry about the shortage of Dorn in this chapter, the next one will definitely make up for it! As always, I hope you are enjoying my story this far, and I would be eternally grateful if you left a comment with your thoughts on it. You would make my day, and also help me a lot to keep improving! See you on the next one, darlings <3


	9. Getting rid of competition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat runs into an old acquaintance at the circus which will surprisingly help her sort out the confusing state of her relationship with Dorn, as she fights to rescue Shantir and end the competition of the inns at Waukeen's Promenade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! I think this one is the longest so far, but I didn't have it in me to cut it, as I liked its ending too much... and I hope you do, too!

_And love's a bitter fruit if you choose to remain in your shame_

_But you couldn't listen, no_

_You look like you're so damn scared_

_I don't really think you care_

* * *

 

When the group exited the inn, Yoshimo walked beside Hexxat, who was well covered under her repaired cloak. So far, it hadn't given her any trouble, and she was thankful for it.

 

“Ah, my dark-skinned beauty, you must surely have a tale of ancient Mezro to while away the walking hours?”

 

He definitely was the curious type. Too much for his own good.

 

“None that I would care to tell,” Hexxat replied, laconic.

 

Also, he wasn't easily discouraged.

 

“Dark secrets, best forgotten?” He asked with his signature glinting grin.

 

“Times and people long since dead,” she sighed in slight annoyance.

 

“But surely there is something we could learn from those long gone—lessons to remember them by?”

 

Now she understood why Cat was so hostile towards him. She raised an eyebrow, her expression otherwise blank, hoping she would be able to dissuade him from insisting in getting any information from her.

 

“Who says I wish to remember them?”

 

“We’ve arrived!” Cat’s voice interrupted any further input from Yoshimo, something Hexxat was more than grateful for.

 

“Let’s go,” the vampire said as she began to pick up her pace, eager to get away from that conversation.

 

*~*~*

 

Cat frowned at the cages as she passed by. The animals trapped inside definitely did not look comfortable. She wished she could have Minsc back to free them and relocate them, but for the moment, they’d have to wait. Plus, she’d rather see as little of the insane ranger as possible. The eery accuracy of his hamster’s judgement of people's character gave her the creeps. No; she would free them the first night she got the chance. For now, her focus was finding Shantir and getting her out of the tent safely.

 

There was an agitated crowd surrounding the colorful marquee. A few Amnian guards fended them off by crossing their halberds, in order to stop them from entering. Most cried out about a captive relative or loved one. A little boy grabbed the hem of Cat’s robes and asked for his mother in sobs. After ridding herself of the brat by telling him she had no idea where she could be, she walked right into the crowd. Those who recognized her gasped and made way for her and her companions. One of the guards stepped up to meet them.

 

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed inside that tent,” he said. “It is under some sort of powerful spell and it is too dangerous to get in. We are here to make sure nothing comes out until the problem's been dealt with.”

 

_Translation: the idea of going in there and fixing it ourselves wets our pants._

 

“Good sir, we are adventurers with experience with all sort of hellish creatures, surely we can manage whatever is hiding inside that circus.”

 

_I can handle any sort of illusion. None can be worse than_ his.

 

The guard exchanged a nervous look with his peers, and then turned to Cat, nodding.

 

“Alright. If you wish to take care of the problem, we won’t stop you… but we can’t assure you that you’ll come out of it in one piece.”

 

“Thank you so much for your cooperation,” Cat replied with a smile before guiding her companions to whatever awaited them inside the circus tent.

 

Cat had expected all sorts of strange happenings. The fact that the tent was a lot bigger on the inside than the outside was only logical if there was an illusion spell at play. The mathematical riddle the djinni posed before allowing her entry was an insult to her intelligence, and the monsters that turned to be humans and vice versa were completely predictable. But the one thing she did not expect was to run into one of her exes –more specifically, the one who still drew breath.

 

“Aerie,” she dryly greeted the avariel once she recovered her elven form after they retrieved a sword-shaped key from a pair of orcs disguised as humans, thus breaking the spell she was under. “It's been quite some time.”

 

To say there was some awkwardness going on would be the understatement of the century.

 

“Cat,” she began, unsure. “T-thank you for helping me. Sorry I didn't tell you who I was before, I—”

 

“Aerie, I recognized your voice,” Cat replied, rolling her eyes. “What, did you fear I would leave you as an ogre forever in revenge for what you did?”

 

The elf bit her lip, guilt showing in her face, just like three years ago. She hadn't changed a bit. Cat couldn't completely blame her; a few years were nothing for an elf, and what she had done had been done out of fear.

 

“I wish I could have told you then, before I left. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

 

“Cut it off. It's all in the past now,” the mage interrupted her, averting her eyes. True, it was in the past, but their breakup, _her betrayal,_ still hurt.

 

“T-then may we speak about what’s happening to the circus? If you're here, I’m guessing you’ve come to solve our p-problem.”

 

“I’m actually here to rescue a friend, but if everyone inside has been polymorphed, I might as well break the illusion,” Cat sighed. “Do you know what happened exactly? I heard it was during the illusionist's performance.”

 

“It was Kalah! He was performing his tricks, but his magic failed him and some people began to laugh at him…” Aerie shivered at the memory. “So he… he created this place and killed most of the circus workers. Oh, please, Cat, we must reach him soon, he has my uncle Quayle with him!”

 

Cat and Dorn exchanged looks. He seemed rather surprised by her interactions with Aerie, but this appeared to have distracted him. Cat was aware that Aerie had an adoptive uncle who had saved her life after the slavers chopped off her wings, and who taught him worship about Baervan Wildwanderer because he said “he could sense a restless spirit within her”, but she never mentioned his name.

 

“Your… uncle… Quayle?”

 

“Y-yes…”

 

“Is he by any chance an illusionist and cleric of Baravar Cloakshadow?”

 

“You know him?” Aerie’s eyes lit up.

 

Dorn was about to say something, probably how he kicked him when he began to pester them and show off his supposed superior intellect, but Cat stopped him.

 

“We were… briefly acquainted,” She answered, elusive. “So, you said this Kalah is keeping him imprisoned?”

 

Aerie’s eyes brimmed with tears. It reminded Cat of when she confided in her how she had been captured by slavers and sold to a freakshow, or how she lost her wings. It still had that damned effect on the witch of wanting to comfort her; to tell her she was safe now and everything was going to be fine. But then she remembered her posterior cowardice, and stood her ground in silence, waiting for her to speak up.

 

“Kalah said we didn't respect him, and that he’d teach us a lesson… then he teleported me here and trapped me into that horrible ogre form… we need to hurry into the heart of the illusion! That's where Kalah must be.”

 

“Well, we’ll keep going then,” Cat began to walk away.

 

Aerie followed.

 

_Fuck._

 

The next room was similar to the former, with a circular shape and a wooden bridge that crossed it, allowing access to huge double doors. They were open, but nothing but a bright yellow light could be seen from outside. The rest of the room was wrapped in darkness. Even illusory, it made really hard to see a thing. Besides, the light of the door didn't work as it was supposed to; it could be seen, but it didn't spread or illuminate the darkness that surrounded the group. Instead, it was concentrated in the door, as if some invisible force prevented it from surpassing the gloom. That was not a good sign. Cat turned to her group.

 

“Everyone, be caref—WHOA!”

 

A werewolf emerged from the shadows and sank its teeth on Cat's shoulder before anyone could move a muscle. She cried out in pain… but no blood poured out?

 

“An illusion!” Aerie exclaimed as she prepared a dispelling spell.

 

Right then, a shadow appeared behind the elf. Cat shot it a magic missile.

 

“The werewolves are, but the shadows are very real,” she shouted as the shadow dissolved.

 

Everyone stood on guard as Aerie dispelled the approaching pack of werewolves. Viconia called upon her goddess’ power, and Dorn used his patron's to poison his greatsword. Yoshimo unsheathed his katana and stood ready. Korgan just grabbed his axe and spat on the floor. Cat decided against chiding him, seeing that it was Aerie's circus after all. It was a tiny, petty revenge, but it satisfied her. That was when she realized that nothing that had happened between them was really in the past. She was still resentful and hurt, it was nigh impossible for her to trust other people when it came to love and relationships of the sort…

 

She paused her brooding to slit a shadow's throat while Dorn cut off one of its ethereal arms. Its otherworldly screams were music to Cat's ears.

 

Now, where was she? Oh, right. If her first lover had already given her severe trust issues, Aerie had been the last nail on her coffin. In a way, she understood why she had acted the way she had, but still. At that time, Cat would have faced anyone and anything just to be with her; she was willing to do anything for her, to be the two of them against the world… or at least Candlekeep's old fashioned ways. But the frightened avariel simply didn't feel the same way. She preferred to save her own ass, or rather, reputation. Because it wasn't like her ass, or any other part of her anatomy, was in actual danger to begin with.

 

**_Wouldn't you like to know how her pretty neck would feel caged in your hands as you strangle her?_ **

 

The shadows seemed to have no end; they kept coming and coming as soon as the former fell. They were slowly but surely cornering and surrounding the group. They all came from within the circular floor and walls, from the darkness itself.

 

_The darkness itself…_

 

Cat broke into running, allowing the shadows to break and tear through her skin and clothing as she kept racing into the light, ignoring her companions’ shouts. There, when all the shadows surrounded her to allow her no escape, she channeled her anger and frustration at her encounter with Aerie, and released a sunfire spell. The whole room lit up, and the shadows fell apart in agony as the light and the flames consumed them into nothingness. Then, she fell on her knees and spat out blood.

 

She felt hands on her. Too many pairs of hands. She immediately recognized Dorn's healing touch, and she leaned her weight against him as he held her. When she turned, he saw that frown that was so typical of him when he was concerned. In the meantime, Viconia casted her own healing spells… and Cat realized that the extra set of hands belonged to Aerie. Her almond-shaped eyes were fixed on the witch and the blackguard who held her. When his gaze met hers, he lightly strengthened his hold on Cat, and Aerie immediately averted her eyes in fear. The wounded witch could not suppress a smile. Being held like that was most comfortable, even despite Dorn's armor being in the way. But she found that mildly possessive gesture to be utterly puerile, not unlike the temper tantrum of a child. One day, they would have to exchange words about whatever it was that was happening between them, about the growing tension that lit up her insides and made her forget even the pain of meeting up with her old flame again. Hells, it almost made her forget that said old flame was currently healing her wounds.

 

“Enough,” she grunted, getting up with some effort, leaning on Dorn for support. “Save your spells for whoever might need them the most.”

 

“I was just trying to help…” Aerie pouted in that way that Cat used to find so adorable. She still kind of did, but the voices in her head telling her to gouge her pretty eyes out wouldn't let her focus on that. It was the first time she felt thankful for her artificially amplified rage.

 

“I have some healing abilities of my own, and as you see my companions are more than ready to assist me,” she retorted, wanting to end that conversation as soon as possible. “Now, everyone. We have fended off the shadows for now, but in this darkness I don't think it will take them long to come back. So let's go into the light, shall we?”

 

Viconia snorted.

 

“Oh, you just reminded me of Caelar Argent… I hope she is suffering well in Avernus,” she chuckled. “But I agree, these shadows are not like the ones Shar commands. I might have been able to control at least a few of them otherwise. So yes, let us go into the accursed light.”

 

Cat laughed.

 

“I could always make a cloak for you, like Hexxat's.”

 

Viconia glared at her.

 

“The light might hurt my eyes and burn my skin, but it doesn't turn me to dust. I can handle the pain on my own.”

 

That was good old Viconia, complaining about anything and everything but refusing any help to solve her problems, because even if she fell from grace in the Underdark –wait, could one _fall_ when actually ascending to the surface?–, she’d be damned if she ever had to depend on any surfacer. Which she actually did; as she had willingly put her own survival in Cat's hands, not once, but twice. But then again, it was true that bright lights and the sun weren't a matter of survival to her, like it was to Hexxat.

 

When the group traversed the glowing light, it turned into a most bizarre scene. An ogre mage tortured –or rather, repeatedly kicked– a slime while a group of monsters watched in horror from the back. Shantir was probably there, Cat reckoned.

 

“Uncle Quayle!” Aerie wailed. “Leave him alone, Kalah!”

 

The slime turned to Aerie slowly. Cat could tell it was pretty battered from all the kicking.

 

“Aerie? Oh, my child, what are you doing here? Run, before this madman gets to you!”

 

Watching Quayle in the shape of a slime felt oddly fitting for Cat. But then again, the fact that he showed such concern for his adoptive niece instead of his own behind, which he seemed so obsessed with when she and Dorn briefly met him at the Wyrm’s Crossing, was a definitely stark contrast that made her question whether he truly deserved such a pathetic fate. It also made her feel a little envious of Aerie, for having such a loving father figure, while all the mage had was a stern mentor who didn’t even trust her and deemed every single thing she did as evil, no matter if it actually was or not.

 

The ogre mage let out a booming laugh.

 

“You really are a fool, Quayle, and you raised your stupid niece as such.”

 

“Kalah!” Aerie exclaimed. “Why are you hurting all these people?”

 

The ogre mage turned to glare at the avariel.

 

“They did not respect me. I heard them laughing at me. And I heard our colleagues whispering how much of a better illusionist Quayle actually is! Well, I’ve had it! I have managed to seize power beyond imagining, and now this is my little world, and I am the master!” With a word, shadows and werewolves surrounded him, ready to pounce on the adventurers. “To them, my shades! I will finish Quayle and his whelp in the meantime, and then the circus will _really_ begin!”

 

Before Cat could make a move, Dorn stood between her and the shadows in a defensive stance.

 

“No more of that sunfire shit, you almost killed yourself before,” he growled as he tore a shadow in two.

 

“I wasn't planning on it,” Cat groaned. “Everyone! Get rid of the shadows. Viconia, dispel the werewolves if you can. Aerie, do you have any spare magic missiles?”

 

The woman nodded.

 

“Good. You and I will focus on Kalah. Let’s dispel his protections first; the sooner we defeat him the sooner his illusions will fade.”

 

“Alright,” Aerie replied, with more determination than she usually showed.

 

Both used their magic dispelling and disrupting spells to pierce through Kalah’s protections as Dorn, Korgan, Hexxat and Yoshimo stood between them and the shadows, fending them off the best they could. The illusory werewolves faded under Viconia’s spell, and Kalah was left unprotected by the two mages’, so before he could formulate a stoneskin spell, Cat and Aerie sent swarm after swarm of magic missiles that interrupted his casting and eventually debilitated him. Even though he had the appearance and magical prowess of an ogre mage, Kalah was still as frail as any other gnome. And so, the shadows, the illusory rooms, the monsters; everything faded, and all that remained was the inside of a tent, a few scared commoners –thankfully, Shantir was among them, shaken but unharmed–, a pretty battered Quayle, and a dying Kalah. Aerie ran to tend to her uncle’s wounds. Cat made her way to Shantir.

 

“Are you okay?” She asked.

 

“I think I’ll never step on a circus again, but I’ll live,” she laughed nervously. “Thanks for showing up, Killer Witch.”

 

“I wasn't about to leave you in your time of need,” Cat replied with a warm smile. “Now go back to the Copper Coronet; Mina is worried sick about you.”

 

Shantir sighed dreamily and obliged. She looked happy with the other woman. Cat hoped it would not distract her too much from her job, though it was unlikely, given that the engineer's performance hadn't lowered a bit since the pair began to go out on dates. The witch turned to the dying gnome, who was sputtering curses and blood.

 

“No!” He coughed. “This isn't what was supposed to happen! This isn't what was promised to me!”

 

Cat’s eyes widened. She raced to Kalah, taking out her dagger. His death was imminent, but she could prolong it and make it even more painful.

 

“Who promised you this? Speak!” She demanded, crouching by his side, dagger in hand, suspended right above his eye.

 

Kalah spat blood at her. She slashed his eye, only over the surface, but it was enough to make him scream.

 

**_More. More more more more more—_ **

 

_SHUT UP!_

 

“I have… planned this for… too long only to have my plans shattered by some inbred northern adventurers!” He cried out in pain, spite and hatred. “I… I just wanted to be respected…”

 

He paused to cough again. Cat still wielded her dagger, this time right under his ear. However, there was no fear in Kalah's eyes. Just resignation. Cat felt a strange mixture of respect and disgust. Respect because he had come to terms with his demise, like all mortals should. Disgust because even though he was a coward, he found courage in death, and even though that was something she also respected, it also meant there was no information she would get out of him. Even so, she did not sheath her dagger, just in case.

 

“You’ve… you’ve killed me…” Kalah spoke in a weaker tone, “...destroyed Kalah with your misplaced morals and beastly greed for adventure…”

 

“How did this happen?” Cat insisted. “How did you manage to turn this circus into your personal playground?”

 

“You fool!” Kalah retorted. “You… you truly know nothing… I am Kalah, an illusionist. I was made a clown-mage for the pleasure of the tall-folk… but I bided my time… and was promised a world I could rule… In Amn… a mage is a criminal and a gnome is a spectacle. In this tent… in my world… Kalah was the master, where none would dare to laugh…”

 

Cat shifted her eyes to Quayle, who was already fully healed and hugging Aerie while he witnessed the other illusionist's passing. His eyes met the witch's, and he spoke.

 

“Kalah, it is true that us gnomes are underestimated and regarded as no more than playthings for the tall-folk's entertainment… but when I founded this circus, my wish was to bring happiness to everyone, not horror! How could you think you would earn anyone's respect this way?”

 

Actually, Kalah did have a point about fear buying respect… but in order for that to happen, one needed power. And Kalah lacked it. His next sentence only served as confirmation.

 

“What do _you_ know, Quayle?” He replied in anger. “You were… the best of us… everyone looked up at you… while I was a failure… someone for others to mock…”

 

“None of the circus employees ever mocked you, Kalah! How do you justify their deaths?” Quayle shot back, his anger matching the dying gnome's. “How do you justify what you did to me, and to my sweet niece? I also had to struggle for respect, but I did so with perseverance, not by hurting others!”

 

“You don’t know…” Kalah's voice became weaker,” ...denied respect my entire life. A clown… a fool… it does not matter… I die as I… as I…”

 

“Preserve your energies!” Cat exclaimed as she pressed the edge of the dagger to the base of Kalah's ear. “Tell me who granted you this power!”

 

“Someone… stronger… feared and respected…”

 

Kalah's eyes rolled up into his head, and he gave the ghost. Cat punched the floor in frustration and sheathed her dagger.

 

“Dammit! Quayle, Aerie, can’t any of you resurrect him? That illusion clearly wasn't created with his own power. We need to know who enabled him to do it!”

 

“Do you think it could be the same entity who granted the trolls access into the de’Arnise keep?” Viconia questioned.

 

“It can't be a coincidence. Both TorGal and Kalah said it was someone 'stronger’. Quayle, Aerie!”

 

The pair looked at each other, then at the enraged witch.

 

“I’m afraid we lack the power for such a feat,” Quayle replied, contrite. “And even if we had it… I doubt it would be wise to bring him back. In the end, he felt no remorse for his ill actions. Who is to say he won't repeat them?”

 

Cat sighed.

 

“Viconia? Could you please raise his body?”

 

“W-what? No!” Aerie interjected in horror. “That is foul magic! I shall not allow you to use it!”

 

“You do not give us orders,” Cat hissed. “Could you, Viconia?”

 

“I’ll give it a try,” she replied, giving Aerie a mocking side glance that made the avariel shiver. Drow were known to have hunted and killed avariel for sport, and the surface elf was surely aware of it.

 

The Sharran prayed and gestured with her hands, and the inside of the tent became somewhat colder, just like when she raised Clara. Kalah’s limbs twitched and twisted, and he struggled to his feet. Anger practically exuded from him, and Viconia frowned. It would be hard to contain that one.

 

“Kalah, answer my questions! Who granted you the power you wielded?” Cat demanded, looking at the corpse of the gnome in the eye, showing no fear.

 

He growled, not unlike most zombies did.

 

“You… murderer… He forbade me from saying it, and the spell that prevents me from speaking lives on after my own death… I curse you for raising me. I curse you all!”

 

“Cat, stop this!” Aerie pleaded, her eyes wide with fear.

 

The witch sighed.

 

“How can that be possible? Such a powerful spell… Begone, you fool, you are of no use to me!”

 

“Ohhh, you think I will go so easily?” Kalah chuckled. “No, I’m back, and now you shall all share the fate you doomed me to! I’m going to—”

 

With a wave of her hand, Viconia ended the spell and Kalah fell back to the floor, dead once more.

 

“Alright, we’re done here,” Cat said, gazing back from Kalah to Aerie and Quayle. “Best of luck to the both of you with your circus and all that. I have a request, though.”

 

“You have saved us both, so we are indebted to you,” Quayle replied with a smile. “Say anything, and if it’s in our power, we’ll grant it to you.”

 

Cat pouted and placed her hands on her hips to show her righteous indignation.

 

“I want you to free all of those caged animals at once! Just who do you think you are? Knowing what Aerie’s been through… and you, Aerie! Have you no sense of empathy whatsoever? What the Hells, you two!?”

 

The pair was silenced by Cat’s outburst. They looked at each other, and then gave into uncontrollable laughter. That only made the mage madder.

 

“The Hells is so funny?”

 

“Sorry, Cat,” Quayle replied between chuckles. “It’s just that… we certainly didn’t expect our combined illusion spells to be _so_ convincing!”

 

Cat felt like she had been slapped. All those animals in the cages outside were just illusions?

 

“W-what—”

 

“Uncle Quayle and I have been practicing combined spells for the circus,” Aerie explained with an uncharacteristically proud smile. “It would seem that they’ve been a complete success so far if they managed to fool _you,_ of all people.”

 

“Uh… then it's okay, I guess,” Cat stuttered, utterly confused. “Well, now that this issue has been solved, we’ll be taking our leave. Take care, you two. Oh, and Aerie?”

 

The elf suddenly blushed.

 

“Y-yes?”

 

“I won’t keep the promise I made you, but I am certain one day you will manage to make it by yourself,” Cat told her before turning her back to the avariel.

* * *

“So what’s next, Kitty?” Korgan asked as they left the circus.

 

“We’ll get back to the Copper Coronet,” she replied, already making her way towards the inn. “I wish to get done with our competition problems. We’ll go to the Mithrest Inn first, I have a plan to gain more influence in the city… and to boycott those snakes’ business. But I’m going to need to change into something more… proper. And for all of you to clean your weapons and gear until it all shines.”

 

Korgan and Dorn groaned in annoyance for Cat’s imposition, as they both loved being covered in gore. She didn’t mind it herself, but not when doing so could be detrimental for her.

 

Once at the inn, Cat received Mina’s grateful hug for saving her lover. Shantir, being the professional she was, reported her advancements with the false dawn traps. Cat was pleased by it, so she allowed them both to take the rest of the day off so they could relax after the disturbing events at the circus. As she was making her way towards Nin’s quarters, she felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned with a smile. Dorn stared at her, serious and frowning.

 

“What’s in your mind?” She asked, tilting her head to the side to better inspect his scowl.

 

“I was wondering… what was going on between you and that elf from the circus?”

 

As direct as always. She'd much rather forget about that.

 

“Just some bad blood we needed to cleanse,” she excused herself, her smile gone, and began to turn to leave.

 

Dorn grabbed her forearm, not as strongly to hurt her, but firmly enough to hold her in place. She groaned and rolled her eyes.

 

“Can we _please_ not talk about this? We have much to do and I’m really not in the mood.”

 

“Cat, you have never lied to me,” he replied in a low voice, getting closer to her, his frown deepening. “Don’t start now.”

 

The witch huffed.

 

“Come to my bedchambers. And tell Bernard to bring some of his good stuff. He’ll know what I’m talking about.”

* * *

“An old flame? Makes sense, I noticed the way she stared at you, and the way you tried to avoid her. What happened?”

 

Cat poured herself a shot of fireseed. She had no idea where Bernard got it from, but it was perfect for moments like those. Dorn had tried his own, and seemed satisfied with the quality of the liquor. The witch downed hers in one go, feeling the heat of the alcohol warming up her insides and burning in her throat with an impossibly spicy aftertaste. It was wonderful… and it was already beginning to go to her head.

 

“She arrived to Candlekeep when I was nineteen,” she began. “Just two years after a disastrous relationship with my first kill that we are NOT going to discuss today.”

 

Dorn raised an eyebrow with curiosity.

 

“You killed before leaving Candlekeep?”

 

“Yes, and as I said, we are NOT talking about that today,” the witch insisted, her mood worsening with the revived old wounds. She poured herself another shot. “Quayle encouraged her to learn the arcane arts, so he gave her a valuable tome as an entry toll and was admitted in Candlekeep as a student. We started off as friends, since we shared the same interest in magic.”

 

“But you became something else,” Dorn guessed.

 

Cat sighed.

 

“It just… sort of happened. One night we stayed up late studying, all the monks had already left and we were alone, and we began to speak about life and stuff, and one thing led to another and next thing I knew we were lying naked at the rose garden.”

 

“So it was just one night.”

 

“No, it was almost an entire year,” Cat chuckled bitterly. “She was sweet and kind, she saw the good in me… or so she said. She was so innocent I was scared I had screwed up after that night, but then she told me she wanted it to happen again. Everything seemed to go smoothly… until she felt cornered and used me as a shield to cover up her sorry ass.”

 

“Reminds me of Kryll,” Dorn gruffed before downing another shot of fireseed. “Why did you allow her to live?”

 

Cat smiled sadly.

 

“Because it was partly my fault,” she confessed. “She was just discovering her own sexuality, and knowing nothing about it except how prudish and bigoted the monks of Candlekeep were on the matter, she insisted in keeping our relationship a secret. I mostly did… until I told Imoen.”

 

Dorn huffed.

 

“Let me guess; she told half of Candlekeep that you were together.”

 

“Of course not!” Cat shot back in outrage. “Who do you take her for? She knew as well as I did how important it was to keep such issues private.”

 

Then, it clicked him. Dorn remembered the bratty thief flirting with any and all attractive women she came across, yet rebuffing all attempts from men and showing no interest in them whatsoever.

 

“Aerie thought the same as you, you know,” Cat commented, downing a shot she probably shouldn't be taking, given how her speech was beginning to slur. “She actually panicked and wouldn't listen to reason, and ended up calling the Great Readers to accuse me of having charmed her into having sex with me.”

 

“What!?”

 

“My thoughts exactly,” Cat's head began to feel heavy, it became harder for her to sit up straight. “Of course, I denied everything, I insisted that everything we did was consensual, that she repeatedly told me that she loved me of her own accord… but she was too scared to admit it. To her, it was a 'kill or be killed’ situation. Believe it or not, she's had an incredibly harsh life. Haven’t you wondered why she’s an avariel yet has no wings?”

 

“Hrm. If she got them cut off, she definitely deserves it for her betrayal.”

 

“No, no, she already lacked them when I met her,” Cat clarified, shaking her head and immediately regretting it when the whole room began to shake before her eyes. “She was captured and caged by slavers to be showcased in a freakshow, but her wings became atrophied and they eventually had to cut them off to prevent her from dying. Quayle took pity on her, healed her and took her away from the slavers, and then he taught her about the gnomic deity Baervan Wildwanderer. He thought it suited her, so now she benefits from the blessings of both Baervan and the elven goddess she already revered, Aerdrie Faenya. She was very self-conscious about the scars on her back the first times I saw her naked. I tried to help her heal, the trauma I mean, but… I guess that's not my thing,” she paused and let out a bitter chuckle that ended up in a fit of coughing. She should definitely stop drinking, but she poured herself another shot. _The last one,_ she lied to herself. “So she did what she thought she had to do in order to survive.”

 

“You speak as if you understood. Would you have done the same?” Dorn inquired, despective.

 

“Of course not!” Cat shouted, angered at the half-orc's reaction. “I would have fought anyone and everyone for her, I would have done _anything…_ Hells, I even promised to find a way to restore her wings once I became powerful enough to cast a wish spell! But she is not me. Her survival instinct was more powerful than her feelings for me. Is she to blame for that?” Cat paused and sighed. “I used to feel betrayed; I think I still do… but a part of me also understands where she’s coming from.”

 

“And what happened next?”

 

Cat let out a bitter laugh that quickly turned into uncontrollable cackling. She fell on her soft cushions, laughed some more, then wiped a tear from her eye and struggled to serve herself a fourth shot while she tried to remember which dosage was lethal for humans.

 

“Gorion intervened before the whole thing escalated, you know, to Ulraunt. He expelled her from the keep, but many people believed what she said, and he gave me a wonderful lecture about how tendencies like mine were depraved and a sign of evil, and that I had to keep them at bay. So you see, I kind of have some resentment towards her, even to this day.”

 

“I still think you would feel better if you killed her. She wasn't loyal to you,” Dorn shook his head. The fireseed didn't seem to affect him as much as it did Cat. “Still, I understand that she was in a complicated position, and it was indeed not your place to tell Imoen about her and you.”

 

“But we had been together for months, and she was my best friend! How was I supposed to hide that from her?” Cat complained, trying to shake her arms for emphasis from her lying position, and just managing to flail them ineffectually.

 

“You said she was beginning to understand her attraction to other women, didn't you?” Dorn chided her like a mother would a spoiled brat. “Such things must be discovered individually and disclosed only when one is ready. Even if Imoen was to be trusted, the decision to tell her should have been Aerie’s, not yours. I learned pretty quick to keep such matters concealed in places where our… inclinations are frowned upon.”

 

Cat threw her arms on the pillows in defeat.

 

“I know, but still, I can’t forgive what she did to me.”

 

“Nobody said you had to forgive. But perhaps you should move on and eventually forget.”

 

Upon hearing those words, Cat propped herself up on her elbows to look at Dorn. He was staring back at her, his gaze as dark and intense as it ever was. Slowly, she crawled to where he was sitting and placed her hands on his shoulders.

 

“Dorn?” She whispered, leaning close to him.

 

“What is it?” He asked, caressing her back in a soothing, slow motion.

 

“I…”

 

She suddenly stood and stumbled to her private bathroom.

 

“I’m going to throw up! Come pull my hair!”

 

The blackguard groaned, but followed immediately to assist the inebriated witch. It seemed that boycotting the Copper Coronet’s competition would have to wait until the next day.

 

* * *

The mission was cancelled due to Cat's indisposition after being “intoxicated with a dwarven brew to the point of almost literally throwing up her insides”, an annoyed yet quite obviously concerned Dorn explained. Which, on the flipside, meant the group would get a free night. Which meant she was free to hunt _more or less_ privately.

 

Of course, Cat had established some rules for her to follow, either out of goodwill towards the witch or because she held her precious Dragomir's Respite, according to her words. They were simple enough, though; she was _not_ to hunt in Cat's territory –which was highly inconvenient and forced her to move to the rich districts of the city–, and she was not to go out alone in order to avoid being ambushed by Shadow Thieves who could mistake her for a member of the vampire guild. Even though Hexxat insisted that she could easily take them down, Cat preferred to play safe and send a companion with her. _Dorn, of all people._ Yes, she definitely felt a lot safer with the one person who had voiced his desire to kill her and who had put a sword to her neck. Cat reassured her that he would do no such thing, since their group dynamics session had been focused on preventing her companions from turning on each other and the blackguard had given her his word that he would not attack the vampire in any way. A word Cat seemed to take as sacred, but not Hexxat. The witch's other reasoning for her choice of companion was the protection Dorn's patron granted him against some of the most dangerous vampires’ abilities, just in case they ran into _the other guild._ Like the Shadow Thieves, Cat reasoned they would not welcome _freelancers_ like Hexxat. So there she was, off to the government district to search for blood. It was supposed to take stealth and finesse, but her companion lacked in both, so they stood out like a sore thumb.

 

However, his presence proved itself to be at the very least justified when they ran into a battle between three Shadow Thieves and a vampire. Hexxat motioned Dorn to hide behind a corner and wait for the fight to be over. It wasn't like any of them cared about slaying members of either side, but Cat had been adamant that they needed to avoid direct conflict with the organizations, so they would keep focusing on killing one another rather than trying to lure Cat into their ranks. The pair watched the vampire tear her enemies to pieces and feast on their blood. It was a brutal act, obviously not meant for feeding, but killing. To her surprise, Hexxat found herself hoping that Shantir finished her trap soon.

 

After the vampire finished her deed, she turned into mist and disappeared into a side alley. Hexxat waited for another good minute, just to make sure she wasn't still lurking around for prey, and then signaled Dorn to follow her. The rest of their walk was uneventful, but she wasn't so fortunate to be spared the half-orc's bragging.

 

“I could have easily torn that vampire to pieces, if only Cat allowed it…”

 

“Whatever,” Hexxat droned, not bothering to look in his direction. Was it another jab at her for… existing and interacting with the witch like the rest of their companions? “Make sure you obey her orders. I reckon you wouldn't want to upset a Bhaalspawn.”

 

“Hrmm, aside from her, I only met her half-brother, Sarevok,” Dorn replied, pensive. “He was impressive, even I could not best him in a sword fight. Power truly runs in their blood.”

 

“That sounds tasty,” Hexxat teased, licking her lips.

 

Dorn's eyes widened. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted her surprisingly fast, with a low growl.

 

“You—”

 

“Let go, you idiot!” Hexxat gasped for air. “I was talking about that woman over there!”

 

Dorn turned in the direction Hexxat pointed at while she struggled to free herself from his grasp. With the superior strength nighttime granted her, she finally managed to tear his arms from her neck and touch ground with her feet again. Far enough from the pair that she couldn't see or hear them, there was a rather drunk young lady who was just giggling and waving goodbye to the chivalrous nobleman who had just walked her home. With some difficulty, she managed to retrieve the keys to her home from her purse and open the gates to a rather impressive garden. She lived in an estate and dressed in luxurious robes, which was proof of her nobility. Cat had stated that she couldn't care less if Hexxat sucked the life off the last noble in Amn.

 

“That one,” the vampire breathed, her voice raspy from almost being strangled.

 

Hexxat raced towards her prey, not bothering to wait another second for the unstable blackguard. In the shadows, the drunk maiden could not detect her. Just a rustle from a camellia bush, and Hexxat was all over the young lady before she could even scream. Not that she didn't take due care of that by covering her mouth as she sank her fangs in the soft flesh of her neck. The crimson nectar flowed, and Hexxat drunk hungrily. Maybe it made her a monster, but the feeling, the… frenzy she got from feeding on blood, it was almost addictive, so she needed to exert extreme self-control in order to avoid accidents. Which meant she fed with a lower frequency than other vampires, but she was more selective with her victims. And oh, Gods, were they delicious…

 

When she was done, she licked her lips clean, let go of the woman’s dead body and locked eyes with Dorn, who observed her from the gate with mild curiosity.

 

“You are quite powerful,” he admitted. “That’s something I respect, but I won't apologize for what I did before.”

 

“Such a gentleman,” Hexxat rolled her eyes as she took everything of value the dead woman carried. She kept the key; Cat would undoubtedly be interested in sacking that estate some day.

 

“I know you were referring to Cat,” the half-orc insisted, baring his teeth at her as if she should be afraid of them. “I may have agreed to be a team player, but that doesn't mean I trust you anywhere near her.”

 

Hexxat stood, with her backpack full of gems, jewelry and coins, and sighed as she walked past the blackguard.

 

“It may come as a shock to you, but I don’t care one bit what you think,” she grumbled as he followed her closely. “I have no intention of harming my benefactor, and I already tried my chance with her, and she was clear that she has no interest in me, so stop that not-so-passive aggression every time I do so much as speaking with her, will you?”

 

Those words shut Dorn for a short moment.

 

“What do you mean, 'you tried your chance with her’?”

 

“It means I asked her if she was interested in me, but she said no. So be not afraid, I won't steal her from you,” Hexxat chuckled.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dorn shouted, making the two of them even more painfully conspicuous.

 

“Could you please speak in a tone that doesn't border on a roar?” Hexxat shushed him. “I mean you have made it quite obvious that you are attracted to her. Why don’t you try your luck, too?”

 

“Luck already smiled at me once,” Dorn whispered, his eyes far away from the luxurious streets, back at that room in Dragonspear Castle…

 

Hexxat raised an eyebrow.

 

“Really? That actually explains a lot. I didn't know you were together, I wouldn't have behaved like I have if I did,” Hexxat replied in a softer tone.

 

“No, we’re not… together. As I said, it was a one time happening,” Dorn clarified, bitter.

 

“But you want it to happen again, right?”

 

“Enough prodding! This conversation is over.”

 

Hexxat rolled her eyes, but ultimately obliged. She didn't want Dorn's growls to attract too much attention to themselves. However, something didn't add up. She saw Cat stealing glances at Dorn, and she noticed the fact that they had lingered a good while before their short sparring at the de’Arnise feud. The odds seemed to be in Dorn's favor, yet he appeared worried of the outcome. Could it be that his feelings for the witch went beyond something purely physical?

 

Eh, whatever. It was his decision to make. Right then, Hexxat was full and happy, and that was all that mattered to her. Well, and her stellar role in the following day’s plans. It was going to be so much fun…

 

Alas, the day after didn't start off exactly well.

 

“Ho there, wench,” Korgan's voice could be heard across the pathway as he approached her with an ample grin in his face. “I’ve a mighty appetite this morning.”

 

Hexxat had to suppress a groan. Wasn't there any man in Cat's group who would leave her the Hells alone? At least the problem with Dorn was _kind of_ solved, but she hadn't expected Korgan to pursue her.

 

“A situation with which I’m all too familiar,” she finally muttered in response as he got close enough for her to realize he was just wearing his underpants. Ugh.

 

“Aye, well, perhaps ye can help me out wi’ this,” Korgan's grin grew wider still. “See, I be cravin’ somethin’ specific.”

 

“And what is that?” Hexxat asked with a sigh, already aware of where the conversation was headed.

 

“Meat,” he replied. “DARK meat. If ye know what I mean.”

 

Okay, that was just about _enough._ It was time to use up her best strategy for dealing with swines like him.

 

“Hmm. Perhaps we could come to an arrangement.”

 

Korgan’s wide eyes betrayed the surprise he felt at not being immediately rejected due to his lack of manners, as was usually the case.

 

“Oh, aye?”

 

Hexxat nodded, a sly smile forming in her lips.

 

“I am also craving something.”

 

“Oh, I just bet ye are,” the dwarf chuckled.

 

“And when I crave something… I lose control,” she whispered, getting closer to the now visibly excited berserker. “I can’t get enough of it.”

 

“I like the sounds o’ that,” Korgan replied, his voice husky and thick with desire.

 

Hexxat ignored him and kept talking.

 

“I’m unstoppable. I drink and drink until my cup is empty.”

 

The vampire noted with satisfaction how Korgan's arousal was replaced by utter confusion.

 

“Yer cup,” he repeated, trying to make sure he had heard her right.

 

“Or tankard,” Hexxat explained, shrugging. “Whatever I’m drinking out of. How much do you weigh?”

 

Korgan blinked.

 

“What?”

 

“I’ve never tasted dwarf blood before,” Hexxat replied, running her thumb along her chin as if lost in thought. “I’m used to… larger meals. I wonder how much blood you could spare?” Korgan's confusion turned to horror. Hexxat's grin amplified, and she made sure to show her fangs. “And if it’s as delicious as you make it seem, whether I could stop myself before you were drained dry.”

 

The dwarf was literally at a loss for words.

 

“I, er… Hm.”

 

“Still want a taste of dark meat?” Hexxat asked dryly.

 

Silence.

 

“Gimme some time,” Korgan finally replied. “I’ll have to think on that one.”

 

“You do that,” Hexxat retorted as she walked away from him.

 

Seriously, why couldn't it be the women of the group who flirted with her? Perhaps she should try her luck with Viconia… Yes, she should do that. But first, they had a mission to accomplish. The vampire wondered if Cat and Hendak would take long to get ready.

* * *

The woman at the other side of the mirror stared in incredulity as her fingertips grazed over the three braids born from the roots of her hair at the left side of her head, decorated with fresh violets and joining into one thick braid that fell over her right shoulder, reaching below her chest. Cat’s most formidable enemy, finally defeated and tamed. She turned to smile at the worker of the miracle.

 

“You are a magic woman, Nin. Did you know that?”

 

The older woman chuckled. Ever since she was fred, her personality had turned a lot more affable. She was still fiercely protective of the former prostitutes, but without the constant threat of Lehtinan, she could finally devote herself to her true calling; fashion design and beauty. And she was good at it. She would soon present her collection of robes at Waukeen's Promenade, and both her and Cat expected a great success… and a lot more money to finance the Copper Coronet's activities, and perhaps a bit for Cat’s personal cause.

 

“I told you that you actually have pretty good hair. Shaping it into what you wish is just a matter of patience… though I must admit that it’s quite rebellious. Like the rest of you.”

 

Nin’s taste was, indeed, impeccable. The heavy smoked eyeshadow she had chosen matched not only Cat’s purple dress, but also highlighted her green eyes in a most pleasing way. The soft pink on her lips was an unusual deviation from the red the witch usually favored, but it was a perfect match for the chosen colors. And the robe was just… Cat spun around to get a better look at the details. The same shade of purple as her eyeshadow, it had her trademark v-shaped lowcut with another cut below the chest, to show off her raven tattoo. If she had learned something from her time battling Caelar Argent, it was that symbols held power, so she decided to turn the jet black bird into hers. The whole thing was held by golden underwire, just like her magic robes, but it was sleeveless, so the chest cloth was divided into strips attached to a gold choker on her neck. The dress was completely backless, and though it flowed gracefully when she moved –blessed thigh-high cuts for improved freedom of movement–, it felt a bit tighter at the hips area. “This ass…” Cat had sighed when putting it on. But it highlighted her curves very nicely, so she didn't mind the small issue. As for jewelry, on her left ear she wore an obsidian ear cuff in the shape of a thorny vine, from which hung an amethyst shaped like a teardrop, and she kept her ring of protection and her ring of wizardry on her fingers, as they had a luxurious feel to them and also made a pretty darn good job of keeping her alive. On her feet, she wore pretty golden sandals with high heels that she found surprisingly comfortable to walk in. Another design success from Nin.

 

“Are you ready to bust on those noblepeople’s behinds?” The designer asked.

 

Cat smiled, mischievous like a child.

 

“Oh, you can bet. I’ll make their next meal a nightmare.”

 

Nin nodded in approval.

 

“Go get them.”

 

At the tavern, Hendak waited beside Cat’s adventure companions. He looked like a completely different man, all dolled up like her. He wore expensive sea green silks that highlighted his muscular frame and flattered his tanned skin, and his wild brown hair and beard had been groomed with the utmost taste and elegance –he had complained about it at first, but he eventually understood the importance his appearance would have for the success of the mission. He offered the mage his arm, which she took gladly. He had been taught the typical noble Amnian manners by one of the former male prostitutes, and though he doubted he could replicate every gesture with the natural grace the other man possessed, he just needed to make a short impression before playing his cards, so Cat was confident that everything would turn out just fine. She took a look at her companions, whose gear gleamed in the candlelight. Yoshimo and Hexxat's, on the other hand, looked as dark as ever, but all the mud, dirt and blood were gone from their armors, and their leather boots shined after a thorough polishing. Contrary to the others, Hexxat didn't need to keep her appearance for long, as her mission required stealth and discretion, and it was vital for the boycott to be a success.

 

Before they took one single step, though, Viconia took to her favorite activity; complaining.

 

“Why do you get to go all dressed up while we have to wear our same boring armor?” She protested, glaring at Cat's dress with some envy.

 

“Because you have a different role to play,” she explained again, not losing her patience thanks to the great mood seeing her hair properly combed at once had put her in. “You will pretend to be our bodyguards so in the moment we walk into the inn, everybody knows we are important.”

 

“So you are basically flaunting us?” The priestess asked in return, with an eyebrow raised and a playful smile.

 

“You could say that, not that you don’t deserve it;” Cat chuckled, “you, my friends, look impressive. Now let's get going.”

 

For its fame as the most luxurious establishment in Athkatla, the Mithrest Inn was rather modest in size. Of course, they made up for it with their royal suites, the performing bard band on the small stage –they called themselves the Bombardier Beetles–, the fur rugs, the aromatic incense to cover any unpleasant smells, and the fine wood of its furniture… not to mention the pasta Cat had tried in there –even though the Copper Coronet's cook had been more than able to replicate and even improve the original recipe. And of course, the visitors were an important way to set an ambience, and that inn’s were, like Edwin would have said had he been present, the cream of Amn. They were seated closest to the band, and had bouquets of flowers and candles on their table, as well as fine linen handkerchiefs. The commoners were easily told apart by their placement at a respectful distance from the more distinguished guests, as well as by the simplicity of their tables, which lacked bouquets or candles, and offered only rough cotton handkerchiefs. That was an idea Cat had tried to implement at the Copper Coronet, but the many brutes that visited it for the entertainment weren't known for their table manners, so they wiped their mouths with their sleeves… if they did it at all.

 

However, her entrance, with her arm entwined in Hendak’s, both circled by their “bodyguards”, did not go unnoticed in the slightest. All the heads turned in their direction, and even the bards stopped playing. Cat took a discrete glance to her right, where Hexxat was, and she headed to the least illuminated corner quicker than any eyes could tell, having taken off her cloak and being able to take full advantage of her vampiric speed once safe indoors. In the meantime, the remainder of the group approached the innkeeper; Cat and Hendak with their heads up in pride. She could hear the whispers of admiration as they passed by the nobility. Who was the mystery couple? How important could they be to have such a display of fearsome bodyguards? The innkeeper, dressed in the typical attire of Amnian merchants, hastily wobbled to their side to greet them and chant his fake compliments. However, he found himself face-first against Dorn's armor as he moved to prevent him from reaching the pair. The whispers grew in volume and excitement. There were already theories about Cat and Hendak being royalty.

 

“Leave him be, he’s just the owner of this fine establishment,” Cat ordered, and Dorn complied a lot quicker than usual, his eyes lingering on her just for a moment. Perhaps she should begin to dress like a noble for him to obey her orders without question?

 

The action prompted a few gasps of wonder. Cat put on her fake face, with a polite and deceivingly warm smile, and greeted the owner with a sugary voice.

 

“Well, met! Forgive my bodyguards’ manners, sometimes they are too protective. One never knows where danger might lie,” she giggled as she offered the obese innkeeper a hand.

 

“Welcome, welcome!” He greeted them with enthusiasm, kissing the offered hand –Cat did her best to keep her smile in place and hide her utter disgust. “Worry not, such important people as you would surely be prepared for the dangers of the road. I gather you are not from around here?”

 

“Your guess is correct. We hail from the north, and we have come for business,” which was technically true, but Cat didn't bother mentioning it was the inn, and not the country of Amn itself, the business they came for.

 

“Excellent news! Amn is the right place for such activities! Now, please introduce yourselves, I would love to know the names of such distinguished guests! Mine is Pugney, and I am here to ensure your stay is up to the highest standards.”

 

Cat smiled at Hendak. It was time.

 

“Actually, that's quite a story in itself, and my husband is really good at storytelling. Would you be so kind as to let him step on stage so he can regale all of our eminent guests with our tale?”

 

“But of course!” The mean Pugney replied, waving at the Bombardier Beetles to retreat so Hendak could step on the stage. The whispers grew louder still. Cat saw some faces going pale with realization. Some had recognized him despite his expensive costume. Maybe those used to be regulars at the fighting pits?

 

On stage, Hendak stood out even more. The delicate draping of his silks could not hide the strong body underneath, and his stern look quieted everyone at once. He was imposing; just what Cat needed. Her plan was going smoothly.

 

“I see many faces in this place. Believe it or not, some of them I recognize, even though I doubt they would ever admit being acquainted with me,” Hendak began. “I see Pugney himself, Count Claylan, Lady Lasalla… and even Sir William of Thorpe. It seems there aren’t as many noble hearts in your order as its name seems to suggest.”

 

The knight in question stood from his seat, red as a tomato.

 

“And who would you be to go around making such grave accusations?” He demanded in a tone that reminded Cat of the one Anomen used to address anyone at the inn who wasn't her. It was plain to see that the members of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart were not used to have their authority called into question. Perhaps she and Dorn should see into it once they had solved their more pressing issues. She was certain he would like that.

 

“My name is Hendak,” the Rashemi revealed as he took off his shirt, letting everyone see the multiple scars he got from the many beasts he fought during his time as a slave, including the claw marks of a bear on his back, “and I have heard Frankie, the manager of the pits, welcome you all by name, shaking your hands, encouraging you to place your bets… I was the one who survived the longest, and I give thanks every day for the time my Lady came and slit Frankie’s and all the other nobles’ throats.”

 

All eyes were on Cat now. She was calm; those people were nothing to her. They could die with a mere thought, a mere wave of her hand… except perhaps for the knight, but what fun would there be if there was not a good fight? Still, she was relaxed, a grin of superiority gracing her features as she gladly returned the terrified stares. Pigney took a step back, mouth agape.

 

“You… who are you?”

 

She turned to him, showing her teeth in her smile. It was a habit she had picked from some of her companions, and even though her teeth weren't sharp, serrated, protruding or terrifying in any way, she knew her aura was.

 

_I am murder incarnate._

 

“I am just a woman who saw the injustice of this city; the slave trade going on while the authorities willingly turned their backs and the rich profited from it. I saw people with no roof to hide under during the dangerous nights, while others had entire rooms for just their garments in their estates. I saw the corruption, the suffering, and I vowed to put an end to it all.”

 

“The Lady of the Slums,” Pigney gasped, eyes wide like saucers.

 

Cat’s smile faded into a scowl.

 

“This city is a bad apple. I am here to purge it from its worms,” then she turned to the commoners, who watched the scene in awe. “I speak to you now, people who maintain this city with your sweat and blood. Would you spend whatever you have to spare to support those who allow such deeds to happen? Those who turn their backs to the needy and thrive with their suffering?”

 

The commoners began to murmur amongst themselves in agreement with Cat’s harangue. She almost got them. On perfect cue, a young maid stumbled down the stairs of the inn, screaming in horror. From the corner of her eye, Cat saw Hexxat discreetly approaching the group.

 

“Rats and spiders! Dozens of them! They are all over the rooms!” She cried, bordering on a panic attack. “I demand a refund for this indignity!”

 

“Now, this is just ridiculous!” Pugney shot back. “We all know Alicia aspires to become an actress. If you think this will somehow increase your credibility, _dear Lady_ , you got it all backw—AHHH!”

 

The fact that the woman assaulted by Hexxat's creatures was a debutante had been sheer luck. The spider hanging mere inches from Pugney’s nose, big as one of Cat's hands, was totally not. Noblepeople and commoners alike fled from the establishment in a stampede, pushing and stepping on one another to get out of that nightmarish place.

 

One down, one to go.

 

* * *

The walk back to the Copper Coronet was rather… colorful. Many of the commoners who had heeded Cat and Hendak's words had decided to turn to the more modest inn, since they now lacked a place to entertain themselves, lunch, get drunk, or even spend the night. It was quite a multitude following the witch, something she was not used to, but didn't really mind. Those people had been moved by her words, and from time to time a random person would try to reach out to tell her how much they admired her. Calling for the masses was a method she had learned from Caelar Argent, which turned out to be a complete success. Cat made a mental note to thank the aasimar should she ever find herself back in Avernus in the future.

 

Once at the tavern, Bernard offered his services to the new guests while Hendak made sure they were properly accommodated. Many wished to hear woeful tales of his life as a slave, fighting wild beasts with his bare hands for survival. It seemed that everything was under control. A server strode in her direction, telling her that Shantir wished to speak to her. Cat excused herself to the crowd that was beginning to form around her and left for the engineer's quarters.

 

“Well, well, Killer Witch, that's what I call a makeover,” she joked as Cat closed the door behind her.

 

“It was all Nin’s doing,” she confessed. “I have taste in clothes and I some basic makeup skills, but I can barely rule my hair into a ponytail, nevermind this work of  art.”

 

“Well, you certainly look splendid… and satisfied. I should guess the Mithrest Inn will no longer trouble us?”

 

“You guess right,” Cat smiled maliciously. “Their business is over. But let's get to the point. Why did you call me? Good news, I hope?”

 

The Chultan’s grin let her know that they were, indeed.

 

“The first false dawn trap prototype is ready for testing,” she announced. “So whenever your vampire ally feels ready, we can start trying it out.”

 

Cat nodded, satisfied with the news.

 

“Great. I’ll inform her right away. Now come out and enjoy your day, it’s pretty busy today at the tavern, but you have earned it.”

 

Indeed it was. The ambiance was also cheerier than usual, with the new flocks of people. Two adventurers battled at the pit while everyone gathered around cheered and placed bets on the winner. The delicious scent of roast –pasta wouldn't have been enough to feed so many new mouths at once– filled Cat's nostrils, mixed with the usual stench of sweat, which was also stronger that day. After a quick search, she saw her companions sitting together at one of the big round tables.

 

“Hexxat? It’s ready. We can begin whenever you are,” she told the vampire, who was in the middle of conversation with Viconia and didn't look too happy to be interrupted. “Of course, I’ll understand if you want to back down.”

 

“I won't back down,” she replied, “but I’d rather enjoy myself right now and do it after we’re finished with the issue of our competition.”

 

“Understandable,” Cat replied. “Which reminds me… get ready, everyone, and don’t overdo it with the ale!” She spoke in a higher volume for all of her companions to hear. “Remember we’re going to the Den this evening.”

 

“Same strategy? I rather liked the look of terror in all those _rivvin_ eyes,” Viconia asked.

 

“Me too,” Cat snickered. “But no, it won't be the same. The Den is a more modest establishment, and from what Bernard told me, we might benefit more from it by not ruining it.”

 

“Is that so?” Hexxat inquired. She really appeared to look forward to spook the inn patrons with her children of the night again.

 

“I am interested in their drinks, and so is Bernard,” Cat explained. “So we’ll go there and I’ll try to come to an agreement with the owner.”

 

“And if they don't agree?” Korgan asked, eager to hear there would be bloodshed.

 

Cat gave him what he craved.

 

“Then we threaten them into telling us who is their supplier, kill them, burn the inn to the ground and contact said supplier so we can get the damned drinks that are damaging our business all for ourselves.”

 

“I like that plan,” Korgan chuckled, running his hand along the handle of his axe in a slow motion that resembled a caress, a habit that honestly weirded out Cat, but hey; she collected, fed and cared for stray cats in her own inn, so to each their own.

 

Which reminded her to look around to see how the commoners reacted to the felines. What she saw brought a smile to her face. Many petted the animals on their laps, fed them fish or used some of the many available cat toys to play with them. The patrons appeared to relax in contact to the animals, and they in turn appreciated the company and attention. Yes, that was definitely a key point to her business. Excusing herself, she left the tavern and went to Tabitha's lair to spend some quality time with her –though not before casting a spell to make her clothes impervious to the dirt of the jungle pocket plane. In order to play with the leopard, Cat either casted mirror images so the feline would use her sense of smell to chase after the real her, or she’d summon creatures for her to hunt. Also, petting her and giving her belly rubs were activities that further strengthened the bond between them, as were her adorable, yet kind of painful headbutts of love. They spent a good hour this way, and not even the ever-present rage was able to ruin Cat’s moment with her animal companion. She decided she would bring her along next time they ventured out of the city; even though the jungle plane was vast enough for Tabitha to thrive, the witch would like her to see new places and eat new prey. But that, sadly, wasn't the day for it.

* * *

“So we’re still going to play bodyguards?” Viconia asked with a raised eyebrow as she saw Cat hadn't changed into her adventuring robes.

 

“I still want to make an impression,” the witch replied. “I mean, we might have to resource to violent ends if diplomacy fails. So you all stay behind, look intimidating and let me do the talking.”

 

She had been expecting Dorn to complain about the lack of violence in her plans, but for the whole day he had been strangely compliant, almost… docile, hadn't she known him any better. Perhaps their drunken conversation from the former night had something to do with it? Whatever it was, he had sure become more talkative with the rest of his companions. During the walk to Waukeen's Promenade, he and Korgan shared stories of past exploits while Viconia listened with mild interest. Since their group dynamics session, the dwarf and the drow appeared to be making an effort to get along, or at the very least tolerate each other's existence.

 

“...and that's how I turned the Three Heads of Dannak into the Two-and-a-Half Heads of Dannak!” Korgan ended his narration with a booming laugh.

 

“Why is it all your stories end with you hitting someone with an axe?” Viconia snorted.

 

“All the best stories end with someone getting hit with an axe!” The dwarf replied, as if it were basic common sense. Which probably was to him.

 

“A fine tale, dwarf,” Dorn complimented the berserker. “I’m reminded of the time I slew a pack of lycanthropes in the Wyrm Forest.”

 

“That would certainly explain why I didn't see any when I visited it,” Cat intervened, reminiscing her raid of the desecrated Bhaal temple where she had been born.

 

“Oh, aye? What happened?” Korgan asked in excitement.

 

“I slew a pack of werewolves in the Wyrm Forest,” Dorn retold. The truth was stories weren't really his forte, but if asked for details he could be extremely graphic about his methods, which was something Cat _adored_ about him.

 

However, Korgan was satisfied enough.

 

“Hah! You know how to tell a tale, I’ll give ye that, half-orc!”

 

“You call that a tale? It was barely a sentence!” Viconia complained, clearly expecting gory details about werewolf entrails and excruciating agony.

 

Korgan ignored her.

 

“It's nice t’ have someone in this wretched crew that understands the finer things in life,” he told Dorn, patting his back since he couldn't reach his shoulders. “Like the many enjoyable ways there are to end it.”

 

“You and I are cut from the same cloth,” Dorn nodded in agreement. “We both know the sublime joy that can only be found in unrestrained slaughter.”

 

His affirmation earned the blackguard a surprisingly hearty laugh from Korgan and a stronger pat on the back that he probably didn't feel, but had it been Cat's case, it would have been sure to break a couple bones.

 

“Someday, you’n me’ll have to sit down with an ale or two… dozen,” he grinned, “an’ then we’ll really tell some tales.”

 

“Indeed,” Dorn placed his hand on the berserker’s shoulder, with one of his extremely unusual smiles. “I look forward to it.”

 

“And here we are,” Cat announced, pointing at the Den of the Seven Vales.

 

The inn was right next to the Mithrest, which was now completely empty –much to Cat's delight–, and it was roughly the same size. Inside, it was much more modest than its companion, with cheaper wood furniture and creaking floors, and there was no scent of incense to be tracked, but rather the one of heavily spiced sausages and chicken. The patrons all belonged to the working class of Athkatla, and Cat took good note of the kinds of liquors they washed down their dinner with. There were no bards or any other source of entertainment whatsoever, yet there was a group of rather loud drunkards who looked like they actually resided in the inn. The counter was located at the opposite end of the entrance, where an elderly woman glared at the loud tipplers with her hands on her hips, looking almost ready to throw tankards at their heads in any moment. When Cat arrived, she gave her a suspicious look.

 

“The Mithrest Inn is the one at the left.”

 

“Do many foreign aristocrats come here by mistake searching for it?” Cat asked, tilting her head to the side with curiosity.

 

The woman paused, noticing that the witch was no ordinary noblewoman.

 

“All the damned time. Those airheads… but I see you're not like ‘em, that mean gleam in your eyes…” she sighed and smiled. “Reminds me of myself in my prime. Yes; like lookin’ in a mirror. I’m Patricia. What’s it ya want, then?”

 

“Business,” Cat replied with a smile.

 

Patricia's jaw dropped.

 

“No way,” she gasped. “You’re that Lady of the Slums everyone keeps babbling about?”

 

“The one and only,” Cat replied with pride.

 

Right then, Patricia looked beyond Cat, at her companions.

 

“I’m guessing you’re here t’ make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

 

Cat glanced back as well, winking at her waiting group.

 

“Them? Oh, I assure you, they mean you no harm as long as you’re friendly to them. They are just my associates.”

 

“Heard ya gathered quite a bunch of those,” Patricia nodded, visibly calmer after Cat’s reassurance. “Honestly, ‘tis refreshing to see a woman thrive in this thrice damned men’s world.”

 

“I’d say you’re doing quite well yourself,” Cat giggled, giving the reunited crowd a significant glance.

 

Patricia harrumphed.

 

“Oh, I just do what I can with the lot I got in life from my useless husband's passing,” she grumbled. “Ya know why this godsforsaken hole is called the 'Den of the Seven Vales’? When my stupid husband lived, its original name was the 'Den of the Seven Veils’, 'cause he had hired a group of exotic dancers to entertain the drunken crowds of pigs like him. See those men over there?” She pointed at the loud group of revellers. “They were regulars by then, already spendin’ all day here gettin’ drunk and doin’ nothin’ of value! I betcha this whole place that after all this time they haven't even noticed the dancers are gone.”

 

“What happened to them?”

 

“I fired ‘em right after my husband kicked the bucket,” Patricia shrugged. “Told ‘em to find a better job that didn't involve men treating ‘em like pieces of meat.”

 

Cat felt a shiver going down her spine. Of course, Patricia could have rehired the women into service, but they would have still be treated in the same humiliating way they had been as dancers. The Copper Coronet was an exception to a sickening rule. Irenicus, once again, was right; what set her apart from mere mortals was power. No one dared to touch the former prostitutes of her inn because they knew what the consequences would be; they knew what she had done to the enslavers. Patricia, on the other hand, could do nothing to guarantee those women such safety. She would have thought that by then she'd be used to conceding her tormenter that he had been right about a great many things all along –probably thanks to his intellect and years of study–, but it still made her think of the worst things he said to her, of the terrible images he implanted in her mind.

 

_Don’t be stupid,_ she told herself. _Statistically, it is impossible even for someone like him to be right all the time. It is impossible even for_ you, _so_ you _are wrong to be worrying about those illusions he used so you would stop trusting those you need to trust in order to defeat him._ He is not as smart as he thinks he is.

 

“You okay, Lady?” Patricia asked with worry. She really had to admire Cat, as she had somewhat dropped her tough cookie façade as soon as she learned who she was dealing with.

 

“Yes, I was just thinking… you’ve managed yourself pretty well despite your hardships,” she replied, faking a smile. “I try to do the same, you see, so I was wondering if we could come to an agreement regarding mutual competition. I, too, like to see strong women such as yourself thrive, and even though this is business, I wouldn't want to cut off your success.”

 

If Patricia noticed the veiled threat behind the mage's words, she had clearly decided to ignore it.

 

“You’re talking ‘bout the drinks, ain’t ya?”

 

She was also smart. Cat was really beginning to like her.

 

“I’m interested in your Dragon’s Beard and mead. The Mithrest Inn is going through… troubled times, so their drink suppliers will undoubtedly turn elsewhere. They have all sorts of fancy wines and beers which could earn us both quite some nice benefits.”

 

“I’m listening,” Patricia nodded.

 

“What I’d ask you to do is to raise the prices of your beverages to what they originally were, and to share your reserves of the drinks I mentioned with me.”

 

“And what could I possibly gain from such a crazy business move?” The elder woman asked, scoffing at Cat’s insolence… even though she somehow seemed to at least respect it, judging by her lopsided grin that showed the few teeth she had left.

 

Cat grinned.

 

“I _am_ going to get the Mithrest’s supplier and their products for my own inn, so what I’m offering is a fifty percent share of the benefits from those drinks _and_ yours. How does that sound? Your place would become more quiet, but I don’t think you’d be too bothered by that.”

 

For a moment, Patricia just stared at Cat in shock, as if she had suddenly turned into a lich. Then, she broke into laughter.

 

“No wonder so many people respect ya, Lady, you’re _bold_ t’ say the least,” she said, slapping Cat’s shoulder. Despite her age, she was strong; the amicable gesture hurt. “Ah, just like lookin’ in a mirror… why yes, I’d be more than pleased to let ya in charge of the drunkards and the fools while I get my money. Consider the deal sealed. And to prove my goodwill, I’ll treat ya and your associates to free dinner, samples of the Dragon’s Beard and mead you requested, and a free night in the noble suites.”

 

Patricia then extended her hand, and Cat gave it a firm shake.

 

“A pleasure making business with you, Patricia.”

* * *

Dinner was rather cheery after Cat shared the good news. Korgan even offered to scare the drunkards away, which turned out to be quite good entertainment. Patricia almost fell to the floor when she saw them scrambling out of the inn while Korgan screamed all sorts of profanities at them while he waved his axe like the madman he was. Even Viconia congratulated him for “a job well done” when he reappeared, cleaning his axe with a handkerchief –Cat had been _very_ vocal that she didn’t want anyone to stain the inn if her negotiations bore fruit. Yoshimo entertained the patrons with tales of Kara-Tur while Hexxat flirted with the waitress –she was forbidden from drinking anyone’s blood in the inn if the negotiations ended well, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t search for willing company for the night… and the waitress looked rather flattered by the vampire’s sweet talk. However, Dorn was just as silent as he had been the whole day, except for sharing his tales of gore and not so much glory with Korgan. He stole glances at Cat every now and then, but he never spoke to her, and truth be told, that behavior was beginning to get on her nerves. So by the time they all retired to their respective rooms and she memorized her spells for the next day, she decided to do something about it.

 

Am abrupt “WHAT” came from the other side of Dorn's room when she knocked. The witch rolled her eyes.

 

“It’s me. Stop sulking and avoiding me. I want to talk.”

 

After a short few seconds, the door finally opened for Cat. Dorn had already taken off his armor and looked ready to turn in for the night, or at least that was what the annoyed look in his face seemed to be telling her when he closed the door behind her.

 

“I don't know what you are speaking of.”

 

Cat groaned. Why did he always have to complicate everything so much?

 

“Yes, you do. After yesterday, you’ve been avoiding talking to me,” she retorted, crossing her arms. “And yet you won't stop staring. What _is_ going on, Dorn? You asked me to be honest, so it’s only fair you do the same.”

 

The blackguard huffed and broke eye contact, crossing his arms as well. He was acting more defensive than usual.

 

“I must admit I find your confession from yesterday to be… troubling.”

 

“How so?”

 

Prodding had always been the most effective way to pry information from Dorn, even if it pissed him off to no end. He emitted a throaty growl, but Cat waited, like she always did.

 

“It made me think back to what I told you after we sparred,” he finally spilled the beans. “Maybe I was too rushed, with your affair with the avariel still fresh in your memory, but…”

 

“But?”

 

He finally looked at her.

 

“I cannot find it in me to regret it. And seeing you in that dress, as impractical as it might be for combat, isn't really helping,” he whispered, his gaze wandering down her figure when he mentioned her robes.

 

That time, however, it felt different. There was no flirting, no smirks or innuendos. He went straight to the point about his inner conflict. Did he really think she was _so_ hung up on Aerie? Cat took two quick steps in his direction and reached for his face, both her hands caressing it, much to his shock. Ah, the heels were a delightful improvement when it came to reaching him from her short stature. Leaning her body against his, she kissed him square in the lips, prying his mouth open for her tongue to enter and touch and explore. Despite the initial shock, Dorn was quick to kiss back and pulled her even closer with his arms, his hands feeling her bare back, squeezing her rear, leaving reddened trails wherever his clawed nails passed by. She responded by biting his lower lip and pulling at his hair, and he pushed her against the nearest wall, breaking the kiss and grabbing her wrists to pin them to the wall as he let his body rest against hers, so she would feel his arousal through his thin clothes.

 

“Then, do you feel it as strongly as I do?” He panted, before leaving a trail of wet kisses down Cat's neck, making her shiver.

 

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then most definitely,” she purred and kissed the crown of his head as he kept nipping and licking at the skin the generous cleavage of her dress showed.

 

He paused to stare at her. She could see the same fire in those dark eyes that she had seen the first night they spent together. Suddenly, she became very aware of what was happening, what was about to happen, and _her current state_.

 

“I can see the hunger in your eyes,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I can wait no longer. I would have you as mine, Cat.”

 

_Well, damn him for saying it in the hottest way possible._

 

“My, you are very eager, aren’t you?” She chuckled nervously. Why the Hells didn't she think what would happen if she kissed him?

 

Dorn let go of one of her hands and placed two fingers on her lips. He had cut the nails of those, and he was now caressing his exposed thigh, turning to the inside of it and letting it rest there, right beneath her sex.

 

“I will give you pleasure as none have before,” he promised, his lips now bare inches from hers.

 

_Dammit, I can't say no when you say it_ like that.

 

“I’ll hold you to that,” Cat replied with a smile that came surprisingly easily. “But tonight might not be the best moment for it. You might be… put off if we take this any further.”

 

“And how could that be possible?” He asked, tilting his head to the side with a smirk.

 

Cat felt the heat on her cheeks. She was blushing. Like a fucking virgin. She chuckled again, feeling mortified.

 

“Well… I’m on my period.”

 

Dorn raised an eyebrow.

 

“Does that put _you_ off? Do you prefer to wait?”

 

“No, but—”

 

He silenced her with a searing kiss, biting her tongue and lips, earning little cries of pleasured pain from her. He then licked the blood off the wounds and took another look at her whole body, with a wolfish grin.

 

“Cat, do you know me so little? Since when has blood of any kind ever been a problem for me?”

 

_What?_

 

_Seriously?_

 

_Is this really happening?_

 

Cat’s doubts about her sanity and her grasp on reality were quickly cast off as Dorn kneeled before her and raised her dress over her hips so he could take off her underwear.

 

_Okay, I’m not dreaming._ It is _happening and—OHHOLYHELLSYES._

 

The witch's legs trembled as she felt the blackguard's tongue running along her slit. He certainly didn't seem to mind her current state. Watching with satisfaction how her knees went weak, he caught her by the rear and pulled her to the floor.

 

“This will be a night to remember… I assure you.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from the song All For You by Years & Years. It is referencing Cat's resentment towards Aerie and the choice she made back at Candlekeep.
> 
> Am I going to write period sex smut? I am going to write period sex smut. I have zero shame. As always, I'll be looking forward to your amazing feedback, I love you all <3


	10. Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat and Dorn finally get together and begin to work their way into a relationship of sorts while she sorts out the last issue with the Copper Coronet; delving into the sewers to find where the remaining slave trading in Athkatla is taking place, and ending it once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm! This took some time to proofread, as I'm trying to apply some really good advice I recently got. I hope what's coming is worth the extra wait. Enjoy!

_ I call you when I need you _

_ When your heart's on fire _

_ You come to me, come to me _

_ Wild and wired _

_ You're simply the best _

_ Better than all the rest _

_ Better than anyone _

_ Anyone I've ever met _

_ I'm stuck on your heart _

_ Hang on every word you say _

_ Tear us apart _

_ Baby, I would rather be dead _

_ Each time you leave me I start losing control _

_ You're walking away with my heart and my soul _

_ I can feel you even when I'm alone _

* * *

 

Clothes laid scattered on the floor, making a trail of sorts to Dorn's bed. Cat’s ear cuff rested on his nightstand, and she had untied her braid for more comfort, shaking her head to flaunt those long black curls Dorn liked so much to toy with. She left the tiny root braids on the side of her head intact, but the violets adorning them were falling off due to the pair’s rather strenuous movements. They spent a good while just touching, getting reacquainted with each other's bodies. Cat slid her hands along the hard muscle of Dorn's arms and torso, feeling the old scars and the new. Some were just thin silvery lines, while others were bulgy and twisted like the branches of a tree, adding to his roughed up appearance. He, on the other hand, left marks on her immaculate skin by raking his nails down her arms and back. However, he turned surprisingly gentle with her breasts, noting they were swollen from her period. Cat sighed as she felt his fingertips tracing the curve of her bosom, lingering on her nipples to tease just a little bit. Then, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, and she had to cover her mouth to suppress a moan. Dorn noticed, and was quick to grab her by the wrist and remove the hand.

 

“Don’t do that. I want to hear you,” he soughed as he twisted a nipple between two fingers, making Cat bite her lip to choke a pleasured sob.

 

“Everyone's going to hear,” Cat whispered, anxious, “we shouldn't abuse Patricia’s hospitality.”

 

“I’m sure she’s more than used to these happenings,” Dorn replied, holding Cat in his arms to lay her on the bed. “And you deserve it after all you’ve done for your own inn. You don't need to hold back your pleasure.”

 

“If someone complains, I’m going to blame you,” Cat pouted from her very comfortable position on the soft pillows.

 

Dorn smirked.

 

“I won’t deny it,  _ it is  _ going to be my doing after all,” he chuckled as he leaned closer to Cat.

 

The witch shuddered as she felt his fingers slowly tracing down her sternum, her stomach, her belly, which was also a bit inflamed from her menstruation. Dorn left soft kisses all over as he travelled downwards. She caressed his messy hair all the while. That delicateness that was so unlike him seemed to come naturally when she needed it, and only when  _ she  _ did. Yet another reason why she trusted him completely despite Irenicus’ attempts to ruin everything.  _ He cared. _ And she began to think the warm feeling whenever they were together went far beyond lust, or even the kind of affection she felt for Imoen. If he couldn't believe she was a worthy companion, she would prove him wrong. Just like with Aerie in the past, she was willing to do whatever it took to make him happy. It was then it all clicked; the feeling was love. But she wasn't afraid of it anymore. There was just no reason to be. So she relaxed and let her voice be heard as Dorn bit up the insides of her thighs. When he was mere inches from her core, he sat back up with one of his malicious grins and then laid down beside the mage.

 

“I think I’ll get more of you if you sit on my face, and you’ll be able to give me some attention in turn,” he suggested, giving himself one single, slow stroke.

 

What a way to word that he wanted to try sixty-nineing. What a  _ very hot way.  _ Cat practically jumped on him, placing her legs under his arms to grant him more freedom of movement… and so she could reach him more easily with their absurd height difference. As she stretched, he grabbed her thighs so she wouldn't slip too far. She began with her hands, fondling him in a slow motion first, her grasp on his shaft firm as she put some pressure with her fingers, trying out whatever would get a stronger reaction from him. By the way he reached up and began to eat her out, his tongue leaving no area of her sex unattended as it twisted and turned at enough speed to undo her completely, Cat guessed she was doing just fine. Panting, she aligned his cock with her mouth, eager to taste him. But first, she was going to tease him a bit. A soft brush of her lips, a delicate nip on the head of his erection, a quick flick of her tongue… And he was growling beneath her, arching up to her as he retaliated by focusing on her clit, the speed and pressure earning loud moans from the woman. They were going to wake the whole inn at that rate… but Cat couldn't find it in her to care anymore. She took his head in her mouth and began to suck. Even though she couldn't reach much further, it didn't mean she wouldn't try anyway.

 

As she pleasured him with her mouth and hands at the same time, she felt a thick finger at her clit, moving at a quick speed as Dorn's tongue drank her up, licking at her entrance and twisting to fit inside it. He was making it really damn hard for Cat to concentrate on her own task. She pulled back and gave the head of his cock a controlled bite, just enough for it to twitch at the unexpected attention. She heard Dorn grunt and smiled, knowing she had done a good job. As she went back to her former ministrations, though, Dorn withdrew the finger at her clit… to slide it inside her. Without his claws, it felt  _ a lot  _ better than their first try.  _ And then he added a second one. _

 

Cat felt her whole body tremble as those fingers pumped in and out of her, curving inwards while inside, searching for the spot that would make her scream. She desperately tried to take in more of him, letting his head hit the back of her mouth, stopping right before triggering her gag reflex, as those fingers prompted throaty moans from her, even with her mouth filled with  _ him. _ He knew he found it when the pitch of her moans turned higher, more desperate, and he gave it insistent caresses as she kept sucking his head hard and jerking off his shaft faster and faster, pleased at the louder sound of his groans, yet very conscious of the way her legs began to give in as her orgasm approached.

 

And then, _the utter bastard_ _removed his fingers._

 

Just as she let go of his cock and turned to protest, Dorn placed his now very wet and sticky fingers on her clit and moved them at top speed, so her complaint turned into screams as he latched his mouth to her entrance to savor all of her climax, licking everywhere to leave no spot unclean while she writhed, called out his name and collapsed on her lover’s body. When her high began to fade, he moved from underneath her and pulled at her hair to turn her around so they were face to face. He was covered in her blood; and the sight, combined with the delightful sting at the spots of her scalp from which grew the hair he was forcibly grabbing, left her yearning for more. She tried to move closer to him, but he placed the two fingers he had fucked her with on her lips, tugging at them to pry them open. She immediately caught the clue.

 

With a feline smile, she stuck her tongue to give his thick fingers a light lick. Then she sucked on his fingertips, taking in more and more in a playful mockery of what she had been doing to him just moments before. And just as she predicted, it ignited him to the point of replacing his fingers with his tongue, kissing her deeply to get a further taste of her blood. She kissed back with enthusiasm, grasping his erection again to tease him a little more. What excited Cat the most about Dorn was how unpredictable and downright  _ wild _ he could become when riled up like that. When he parted the kiss, he growled one single word, and it was enough for Cat to understand what he wanted to do next.

 

“More.”

 

His fingers were clean, but there was still plenty of blood on his face for her to lick, so she got to work, starting from the droplets that were trickling down his neck. His hands went back to feeling her up, this time more focused on her ass, where there was plenty for him to grab and scratch without fear of actually doing any harm. Cat moaned and moved up to lick at his jaw and chin. She felt Dorn's claws piercing her skin, and she let out a little gasp before taking her vengeance by biting his chin, hard. His free hand shot back to her hair to move her and kiss her, unable to wait for more blood. When he let her go, she kept licking his cheeks, lips, tusks; and sharing the gore with him until he was perfectly clean. They were both panting by then, gazing at each other's eyes, hazy and clouded with desire.

 

“I want you now, Cat,” Dorn whispered, running his thumb along her cheekbones.

 

The witch smiled, taking the hand into hers to kiss the knuckles.

 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

 

In less than a heartbeat, the half-orc stood, found his lubricant in his backpack and covered himself in it as he walked back to the bed, while Cat watched him touch himself in awe. He sat beside her and pulled her into yet another ardent kiss, though briefer than all the former.

 

“Turn around.”

 

Much like at Dragonspear Castle's basement, Cat couldn't really tell if he was commanding or begging her, but she did not think twice and turned on all fours. Dorn grabbed her hips, and she let out a shallow gasp as she felt his tip pressed against her sex. With one swift movement, he pushed himself inside her, and she howled. After their first time together, he had learned quite a bit of what made her tick, so he didn't hesitate to go for hard, deep thrusts, Cat's screams being his guide that he was doing perfectly well so far. She moved her hips against him, trying to synch with his quickening pace, and oh, Gods, it got even better. By the way he took a hold of her hair and yanked at it to bite the side of her neck, she’d swear he liked it, too. Feeling the drops of his sweat falling on her back, his claws latched at her hips so deep they drew blood, his grunts as he ploughed into her, the wet slapping sounds of their sexes, the heavenly friction of that blessed cock against her sensitive inner walls… the tension of it all was too much to bear. 

 

Cat bent down, supporting her upper body on her forearms as she lifted her hips higher, feeling close to peaking once more. Dorn picked up on it and began slamming into her between snarls. Cat cried out as she felt the high of her orgasm. There was nothing that could compare to the feeling, and had she been able to think straight or articulate any sounds other than passionate wails, she would have begged for it to never end. As the sensation began to recede, she heard Dorn letting out a strangled sigh as he pushed himself as deep inside Cat as he could reach, and he leaned his weight on her body, spending himself inside her. The feeling of his cock twitching and his seed spilling made Cat shudder and let out a little whimper, and he circled her smaller body with his arms, pulling her into a warm embrace and kissing her shoulder.

 

“We should rinse ourselves,” Cat managed to say, her breath still ragged. “I don’t think Patricia would like us to stain her sheets.”

 

“A little late for that, don’t you think?” Dorn snorted.

 

However, he complied to Cat's request. Once clean and rid of the sweat that clinged to her after their nightly activities, she stood in the middle of the room, unsure, as he crawled back into his bed.

 

“Can I stay for the night?” Cat asked, still as a statue and tense like the string of a bow.

 

Dorn raised an eyebrow.

 

“I had already assumed you would. Why would you think—”

 

The blackguard was cut off by the mage's childlike, happy squeal as she dashed and leapt into the bed and into his arms, leaving feathery kisses in every inch of skin she could reach.

 

“I’m so glad,” she giggled as she stroked his ear, pleased when she heard him sigh in response.

 

Dorn pulled her closer, shaking his head.

 

“You really are a strange woman,” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head.

 

* * *

_ Mist swirled all around her. She could barely make out shadows in the distance, but when she called, she received no answer. There was no telling what her whereabouts were, whether there was a path to follow, and where it would lead. There was nothing; nothing but that thick twisting mist. Since her sight was useless, Cat decided to close her eyes and rely on her sense of hearing and smell. Still nothing. Frowning, she took a step. _

 

_ Wildflowers. Rugged, sweated leather.  _ Blood.

 

_ “You abandoned me!” Imoen's voice cried from behind her. “How could you?” _

 

_ When Cat spun on her heels and opened her eyes once more, she saw nothing. Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain on her chest. The blade of a short sword stuck from it, dyed crimson with her blood. Imoen pulled out the sword, and Cat's vision began to blur. She fell on her knees, trying in vain to use her healing abilities on the gaping hole where her heart should be. _

 

_ Musk. Iron. Sweat. The blood of hundreds.  _ Sex.

 

_ “Ur-Gothoz demands the blood of a god!” She heard Dorn roar somewhere to the front.  _

 

_ Cat blinked, and despite the dizziness the lethal wound she just received induced her, she could see the blackguard charge in her direction. She knew she should run away, but she felt too weak… From the corner of her eye, she caught the flash of the Sword of Chaos, and thought bitterly of the irony of being slain by the weapon of the very man she had brought down. The cold metal made contact with the skin of her neck… _

 

Cat woke with a startle. It took her a few moments to realize where she was. Panic grasped at her very being. She had to run away; escape before they turned against her, trust no one,  _ trust no one… _

 

Then she heard a low, throaty rumble. Dorn shifted his position in his sleep and pulled her closer to him, so that her face was buried in his chest. Closing her eyes, she heard the steady beat of his heart, and she immediately calmed down.

 

_ I am such an idiot,  _ she thought as she reached up to kiss the scar on his right eye, before turning back to sleep. She wouldn't fall for that trick again. There was no other place she needed to be than right there, in that bed, in between those arms, and she wasn't going to repeat the mistake of leaving.

 

* * *

When a disheveled Cat left a generous tip for Patricia “for the inconveniences she and her associates might have caused”, the innkeeper snickered and assured her it was no problem; she had been young and loud once, too. Which was a lot more information than the witch needed to know, so she no longer felt remorse for forgetting to put her protective underwear back on before going to sleep. It had a washable cotton fabric that kept her from staining her clothes during her period, and she rarely forgot to wear it. But last night had been… intense. The memories were still fresh on her mind, and the aftermath was evident in the knots of her now loose hair, as well as the multiple bite marks on her neck and shoulders and the scratches on her arms and back. When she saw her, Viconia joked about her having a “rough night”... which wasn't exactly far from the truth. But oh, what a joyous rough night.

 

Back at her base of operations, she changed back into her mage robes, informed Hendak and Bernard of the success of her negotiations, and announced her intention of venturing into the sewers to find the secret place where the slave trade was still carried out, in order to finally put an end to it. Viconia immediately scrunched her nose upon hearing the word “sewers”.

 

“Do we seriously have to drag ourselves through the mud?” She complained, throwing her arms up for emphasis. “I’ve just managed to get the last remainders of troll innards from my armor and I must fill it with dirt again?”

 

“Yes, you must,” Cat droned, unmoved by the drow's dramatism. “I’ve had to go down the sewers of Baldur's Gate twice, I even had to throw myself down a shit waterfall to avoid a squad of Flaming Fists shooting arrows at me,  _ and then  _ I had to fight two carrion crawlers who thought I was half-dead enough to eat. Do you see me whining about it?”

 

For once, Viconia was at a loss for words.

 

“That’s what I thought. Now move your asses, everyone; there's an entrance to the sewers at the basement of the inn, so the trading point can’t be too far. Let’s go.”

 

Of course, she didn't anticipate being absolutely wrong. The sewers of Athkatla were less labyrinthine than those of Baldur's Gate, but it was still an endless walk in the dark, stepping on turbid waters and squishy somethings she’d really prefer not to identify. At some point, the walls had given in, revealing a pair of humanoid-sized skeletons which had somehow ended up bricked up together, intertwined in an eternal embrace.

 

“Aww, how cute,” Cat cooed. “And look at that ring, it might be worth quite a bit.”

 

She placed the heart-shaped ring she tore from one of the skeletons’ finger inside one of the many hidden pockets of her robe. It was then that she recognized the putrid stench of carrion crawlers from a nearby passage to the left, and motioned the group to get ready to deal with the critters. Against six seasoned adventurers, the two unaware creatures didn't stand a chance; a deadeye bullet, courtesy of Viconia, and a hack of Korgan’s axe, and the crawlers laid dead at the party’s feet. Cat scratched her chin.

 

“If these things were here, there must be a mage nearby. We might be close. Get ready, and be careful.”

 

Thusly, she led her little troupe of outcasts into yet another wrong assumption. What the Hells was going on in those sewers?

 

Somehow, they found themselves in a forest-like ground, with moss and mushrooms that varied from tiny to gargantuan covering every inch of space. Pale light emanated from the biggest fungus, and the corpse of a mage and a warrior laid a few feet away from the group. A minotaur howled in pain and fell dead to the ground. How he arrived there was anyone's guess, but there was a far more important matter at hand. Cat cursed and drew her wand of fire.

 

“Everyone, retreat! This is a den of—”

 

A spore exploded right on her face, and she coughed after accidentally inhaling the toxic powder. She tried to signal her companions not to get close to the myconids on the move… but her sight began to blur to the point where she could see nothing but a whirlwind of colors. Distorted faces she could no longer recognize stared down at her. She felt the silent judgement in their eyes. She did not like those eyes one bit. First she thought of unsheathing her dagger to gouge them out, but then she remembered the wand she was carrying. However, she was too slow; the faces dissolved before her very eyes, turning into hellish fiends. The world spun around her, too fast for her to keep track of it, but she focused on the demons, not even pausing to take their fire resistance into consideration before releasing a fireball from her wand. The screams… they were wrong. Too high-pitched to belong to demons. Suddenly, she saw a bright light, a dark hand, and felt unbearable heat all around her.

 

“Cat! Snap out of it,  _ xsa’ol _ !”

 

Finally, a familiar face appeared in front of her, and the world stopped spinning. Viconia was grabbing a hold of her arm and carrying her away from the blazing inferno the witch now realized she had just turned the myconid den into. Which meant lots of toxic fumes were likely being released, poisoning any fool who attempted to set foot inside. The scene reminded her of their battle against Belhifet, but this time it was Viconia who carried Cat, and not the other way around. She much preferred the former experience. At the entrance of the cavern, her companions waited, the charred corpses of the myconids not too far from them. Once at a safe distance from the fire, Cat removed herself from Viconia’s grip, muttering that she wasn’t crippled.

 

“No, your mind was just confused into setting an extremely dangerous ecosystem on fire,” the priestess retorted, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

 

“Isn’t that what I always do, though?” Cat chuckled as she passed by the rather pissed drow.

 

“True, but it normally doesn’t involve me having to waste my dispelling magic to prevent you from killing us all,” she shot back as they undid their path.

 

“Alright, Viconia, I get it; thank you, you saved the day, I’ll bake you cookies or something when we get back,” Cat replied, lacing her voice with sarcasm to hide how grateful she truly was for having recovered her soundness of mind.

 

“ _ Elg’caress _ ,” Viconia muttered, almost inaudibly. Almost.

 

“I heard that!” Cat’s voice sounded from behind the corner she just turned.

 

The stinking path they followed seemed to extend into infinity. The group ran into a pack of kobolds led by a shaman who claimed that the tiny, wet corner of the dead end the adventurers just ran into was theirs and theirs alone. Ignoring them, Cat began to make her way for an improvised bridge made from a door that allowed to cross the mucky waters, hoping it would take them  _ somewhere,  _ when Hexxat pulled at her arm to stop her.

 

“It is trapped,” she explained as she crouched to deactivate the hidden mechanism inside the hole where the door knob should have been.

 

“Good eye, thanks,” Cat replied, rubbing her arm. Hexxat was a lot stronger than she appeared; the mage was certain the vampire had left bruises on her arm in her attempt to safe her life.

 

“We can go now. Maybe this trap means we’re getting closer,” Hexxat theorized.

 

Cat huffed as she crossed the “bridge” beside her.

 

“Or maybe it’s just another dead end, leading us to yet more weird shit.”

 

During their rather pathetic trek down the dirt, Cat noticed a half hidden passage, invisible even to the eyes of thieves like Yoshimo and Hexxat. She only became aware of its existence because of the powerful magic aura that exuded from it. Maybe it was just another death trap, but what was one more at that point? Besides, it could be something actually good.

 

“Hey, let's check out this place!” She called for her companions.

 

“Seriously?” Viconia groaned. “If something happens to you, I’m not going to help you.”

 

“It’s fine, really, it’s just a bunch of pipes in here,” Cat reassured her from inside the room. “Wait, there's something written on them…”

 

Whoever had managed to carve those words into the rusted metal clearly had a really unbalanced mind. The scribbles were barely legible, and the calligraphy was so hideous Cat felt it would be insulting to give it such a generous sobriquet. They appeared to be riddles of some sort, but they made little to no sense. Just as she was about to give up her investigation, a light began to shine in the depths of the dark puddle of water the pipes ended in. A cold, metallic voice reverberated in the room.

 

“At last! Find the keys, wielder! I’ve found a man lacking in worth, so he shall be my voice until I’m free. Prove your worth and I shall submit to your mastery. Listen to the words of my jailor, who cast me off so that he might pass from this world:”

 

The voice began to chant. Cat and her companions exchanged looks, wondering whether their sanity had left them in that disgusting area.

 

“Four locks are cast and made.

Four wards will hold the blade.

In what order shall thou place the keys?

Four deaths await thee.”

 

Awkward silence. The glowing light didn't seem to notice, however.

 

“When all was silent, I crept from the slime and scratched rhymes for you. Vallah forbade it and hid me, but he is dead, so I’ve ignored him.”

 

“What is going on here? Who are you?” Cat asked, rubbing her temples to try and soothe the incoming headache. Why did all the weird stuff have to happen to her?

 

But then again, an enchanted blade was always an interesting item to acquire, so she at least decided to give whatever the Hells was going on a chance.

 

The voice laughed.

 

“I can’t reveal all. Prove your worth—find Quallo. We shall speak through that vessel. Be careful! The wards must be broken in the proper order.”

 

Viconia sighed in annoyance. She appeared to be having a terrible day.

 

“Cat, can this possibly be worth the endless trekking through slime and filth?” She complained. “I say we torture this Quallo for answers and then we leave this stench-ridden place for good!”

 

“How interesting,” Yoshimo chuckled. “I would have thought you’d feel right at home in this slime, Viconia.”

 

The woman sent him the mother of all death glares.

 

“Do not think to jest with me, male, lest you lose your tongue,”she hissed.

 

During the pair’s exchange, Cat took some time to write down the horrible rhymes in her journal, as well as which pipe they were written on, so she’d better remember what they were looking for. Two of the unforgivable slanders on poetry caught her attention.

 

“They wailed and sighed

Then they died

From the grave I’ve had my kiss

Bring me now the lover’s gift”

 

“Smell of dog

Skin of lizard

To find the staff

Kill the wizard”

 

“We already have one of the objects, and I know where the second one is,” Cat announced with joy.

 

“Shouldn’t we be doing something about the slave trade?” Hexxat inquired upon the witch’s enthusiasm.

 

“There is an enchanted sword hidden in these sewers for us,” Cat explained. “It might come in handy in a fight against those slavers, don’t you think? Besides, how hard can it be to solve this riddle?”

 

* * *

“Sewers are OURS!” The kobold repeated when the group approached him.

 

“You know what's definitely not yours?” Cat said, grinning. “That staff.”

 

“Lies! It belongs to kobold chief! It belongs to me!”

 

Cat’s grin amplified. She made her fingers glow red with the magic missiles she was ready to shoot.

 

“How about I take it from your cold, dead hands?” She lowered her tone, not bothering to hide the excitement of imminent bloodshed.

 

The kobold shaman stumbled backwards, trying to hide behind his subjects.

 

“You will NOT have King’s staff! Kill them all, my subjects!”

 

“But King… They have big weapons and that one has glowy hands,” one of the commandos objected. “They scare us.”

 

“Yes, they could kill us all,” another frightened kobold joined in.

 

“Oh, believe me, we would,” Cat turned to the doubting kobolds, making them recoil in fear.

 

“I said KILL THEM!”

 

“No,” the kobold commando who spoke first opposed his leader. “We will not die for stupid staff. I say we give it to them.”

 

“You DARE to defy me?” The shaman all but bellowed in fury. “Fine then, your King will kill invaders, and then traitors who—URGH!”

 

“You were saying?” Cat asked, feigning disinterest in the badly wounded kobold as she examined the state of the nails that had been glowing with arcane energy just moments ago, before she released the magic missiles she had prepared.

 

“I… am… King… I won't…”

 

A throwing dagger pierced his throat, finally silencing him. Cat stood for a moment, with her hand still extended, watching the shaman bleed out. Then, she passed by the mesmerized kobolds and took his precious staff.

 

“Then you guys don’t mind if I keep this, do you?”

 

“All yours,” one of the kobolds grunted while the others just nodded in agreement.

 

“Thank you. Oh, by the way,” Cat added, already turning to leave. “Do you, by any chance, happen to know where I might find some guy called Quallo?”

 

“The weird man with monster friend? He lives south of here, next to beastie’s hole,” the rebellious kobold commando pointed in the direction he meant for the group to follow.”

 

“Alright, thanks again, and farewell!”

 

As they followed the kobold’s directions, Dorn walked next to Cat, frowning.

 

“You should have let us kill them all,” he protested.

 

“We can do that later, when we have the sword. I think I have a clue for the next object,” Cat replied, unfazed by his disappointment. She opened her journal and read.

 

“No sacrifice will do

But the blood of a friend true.

But guilt will leave its stain

If you wish to have the blade.”

 

Cat cringed at the literary affront and closed her journal. Then, she turned to Dorn and smiled.

 

“See? There's going to be plenty to kill!”

 

* * *

There were people with an extreme penchant for cleanliness, who could not stand to see the tiniest of stains or anything out of its natural order, like Cat learned about Edwin while they journeyed together. Others, like Cat herself, still upheld acceptable hygiene standards without being  _ fucking maniacs.  _ Some seemed to love bathing and frolicking in grime –pretty much Korgan's case.

 

And then, there was Quallo.

 

It was obvious he had been residing in those sewers for years. The rags that barely covered his skin and bones were of an unidentifiable color, with multiple stains that let whoever was unfortunate enough to lay eyes on him that he never, ever, took them off; not even to tend to his basic needs.  _ Especially _ not to tend to his basic needs, judging from the smell. His body was completely disfigured by ghastly sores and pustules swollen with pus. The little hair left on his scalp was lank and greasy, and when he smiled at the arrival of visitors, he revealed sickening blackened gums and just a few rotten teeth left in his mouth. It was a wonder the man was still alive, and Cat wondered if the magic of the sword had anything to do with it. She gave serious thought about asking Viconia to cast a zone of sweet air spell so she could speak to that man without throwing up; he was a living cloudkill.

 

“Quallo, I assume?” She managed to ask, trying to avoid getting too close to the man.

 

“You have come for the blade, I suppose.”

 

Then, he glanced back to a carrion crawler that crept in his direction. Cat was about to attack, but then she saw the man… petting… the creature.

 

“It is as we have always expected, my friend,” he whispered to the crawler. “Too long in this pit, too long.”

 

“Friend?” Cat could not help but ask. “That carrion crawler is your friend?”

 

Quallo turned to glare at Cat while still petting the disgusting varmint.

 

“This beast that you see, he is a monster to you, but to me he is a friend. Would you like to kiss him?”

 

“NO,” Cat shouted, taking a step back in utter revulsion.

 

To her horror, Quallo planted a kiss on the crawler’s head. Foam dripped from its mouth. She really hoped the sword would be fucking worth it, because the scene was sure to give her nightmares. She heard hurling sounds behind her. There went Viconia's breakfast. She was lucky Hexxat had been quick enough to grab her long hair –everyone else just stepped as far from the priestess as possible– so it wouldn't end up splattered with vomit… and so was Cat. She knew she was already in for one or two Hells of complaints on the drow's part, but if her precious silver locks were damaged in any way, her screeches would surely leave her deaf. And she wasn't looking forward to lose her sense of hearing anytime soon.

 

“He loves affection,” Quallo continued. “He loves to taste the flesh of the unwary. It is his one weakness. It has been his gift to me for these long years.”

 

So the man with information about the objects required for the sword also had cannibalistic tendencies. The day was getting better and better.

 

“Riiiiight… can we now  _ please  _ get back to the subject I came here for?” 

 

“The gleam in your eye! It belies your greed, your passion,” Quallo exclaimed in excitement, finally leaving the carrion crawler to its devices and focusing on the conversation. “I’ve found this blade, child! It is hidden most insidiously. A cruel jest has been played upon us all. My friend here knows this!”

 

“Let me guess,” Cat crossed her arms, “you are the unworthy one who came searching for the sword before me.”

 

“That I am,” Quallo sighed. “So, so long ago… Have you found the One’s clues? There is much that you must learn.”

 

“Enough!” Korgan exploded. “If there be treasure to be found, ye must place it in our hands with none of this nonsense and riddles lest my axe find yer tongue!”

 

“Kill me if you must, impatient ones, but it shall place the blade in thy greedy hands no faster!” Quallo stood his ground. It was to be expected; his flesh was rotting and probably his insides too, death would mean nothing but release to him at that point.

 

“It is not you that we must kill, Quallo,” Cat intervened before Korgan did something foolish. “Will you interfere?”

 

The man turned to his monstrous companion with sadness. He pet it one last time.

 

“I’m afraid I cannot, for it is not the One’s will and I cannot disobey,” he sighed. “However, I must warn you; the clues have to be placed in the correct order. If you fail, you and your most loved one will take our place in this hole, charmed by the One until another foolish adventurer comes to seek what you failed to retrieve.”

 

Cat turned to glance at Dorn in an instinctive motion. He had unsheathed his sword, and was ready to engage in battle on her command. Maybe the carrion crawler was just Quallo’s polymorphed companion? Was a sword really worth such a risk, no matter how powerful and useful it could turn out to be?

 

There was only one way to find out.

 

“Kill that hideous creature, my friends,” Cat ordered, her voice stone cold despite the lump she felt on her throat.

 

To her dismal, she watched, helpless, as a bullet hit Quallo's forehead, making him lose balance and stumble, and causing him to bleed.

 

“I meant the carrion crawler, Viconia!” Cat screamed.

 

“The male had it coming for being disgusting enough to make me vomit,” the woman spat, getting another bullet ready, this time aimed at the right target.

 

However, by the time Cat got ready to engage in combat, Korgan and Dorn had already torn the monster to pieces. They kept chopping and chopping until she made them stop. After a quick search in her backpack, she found a vial with which she collected the beast’s blood. Behind her, Quallo wept in silence. She faced him, and he nodded, tears streaming down his grotesque face.

 

“This leaves us only one clue to find,” Cat said, opening her journal to read.

 

“Vallah is no more

But he has left a thing behind

Give me a hand

And I shall help you in return”

 

“Do you think this could be referring to the skeletons again?” Yoshimo suggested. “Perhaps we should take the whole hand that held the ring.”

 

“I’m not sure…” Cat clicked her tongue, rereading the riddle. This one was especially cryptic.

 

Suddenly, an echo of a roar could be heard from the room next to Quallo’s place of residence. The witch remembered the kobolds had mentioned a “beastie”... Could that be it?

 

“Follow me,” she called for her group as she ventured into the room.

 

“Will you cease doing  _ that _ ?” Dorn huffed as he hurried to her side, just in time to find himself face-first against an otyugh.

 

“What?” Cat asked as she aimed her magic missiles at one of the creature’s tentacles.

 

“Charge forward by yourself!” He growled as he did exactly that, taking an agile leap and swinging with his greatsword in a downward arch, cutting through the beast’s mouth. Some of its sharp fangs flew around.

 

“It’s called  _ leading! _ ” Cat rebutted as she cast blindness on the eyed tentacle of the otyugh while the rest of their comrades joined the fight.

 

With a wild roar, Korgan charged and sliced through flesh and tentacle, with Yoshimo and Hexxat close behind. Viconia, on the other hand, called upon Shar’s might to improve her reflexes and accuracy when shooting at the monster, which flailed its tentacles in every possible direction, now blinded by Cat’s spell. One of them hit a wall, making it tremble, rubble falling on the companions’ faces in a cloud of dust. A crackling sound came from above, and the dust dissolved just in time for Cat to see a piece of the ceiling giving in right where Dorn stood, staggering after one of the otyugh’s tentacles hit him, infecting him with disease. Almost in slow motion, she saw the behemoth advancing in his direction, and she raced faster than she ever had before. She didn’t know where she got the strength to push the much heavier blackguard away from harm –oh, well, probably the taint and the fact that he wasn’t in a stable enough position to keep his balance–, but when she saw him landing on his behind, far from the falling debris, she gave him a weak smile as pain shot from her leg, trapped under the rock along with the now dead otyugh.

 

“See?” She chuckled weakly. “Leading.”

 

Muttering a curse, Dorn struggled to get on his feet, still slightly disoriented and nauseated by the otyugh’s attack, but with enough strength to keep on moving thanks to the natural resilience his orcish heritage granted him. With Korgan and Hexxat’s help, they moved the rock to free Cat’s leg, and Yoshimo helped her stand on her feet. She hissed in pain when her injured foot touched the ground, but Viconia was quick by her side to cast her strongest healing spells so her bones would regenerate enough for her to be able to walk. In the meantime, the witch used her own healing powers to close the profusely bleeding wounds. She sighed in relief when she was able to walk again, the pain now just a numb ache. Dorn shook his head in disapproval, arms crossed.

 

“That is no leadership. That is suicide.”

 

Cat let out a hearty laugh as she examined a grate in the center of the room that remained miraculously undamaged by the battle with the otyugh.

 

“I guess that’s the rage prompting me to kill everything in my sight—OUCH!”

 

“What foolishness have you committed now?” The blackguard hissed through gritted teeth while he rushed to her side. Despite his harsh tone, his eyes betrayed the concern he felt. The sight was enough to make Cat’s heart race and swell.

 

With an awkward chuckle, she showed a dried hand she had retrieved from the grate, though she wasn’t fast enough to prevent whatever creature resided inside from biting her, possibly trying to take her own hand in repayment. Thankfully, it only managed to pierce her skin.

 

“I think this is what that horrid poem meant by ‘giving him a hand’.”

 

Viconia stared at the witch in disbelief.

 

“ _ Ushdui jalil,”  _ she sighed, shaking her head.

 

“Viconia, did I ever mention that I caught up on some of the drow language while I heard you and Baeloth speak to each other?” Cat replied, her eyes glinting in the barely lit circular room. “ _ Lar uns’aa natha elg’caress ‘sohna lu’usstan orn harventh tir dosst haren.” _

 

The drow tensed up.

 

“Your pronunciation is outrageous.”

 

However, the priestess was silent for the rest of the trip.

 

* * *

“I think we have every clue, Quallo,” Cat told the still weeping man as she arrived at his little corner of the sewers. “What can you tell me of this hand, for instance?”

 

Despite the tears, Quallo was strangely serene. He took the dried off hand and examined it. Then he gave it back to Cat, nodding.

 

“It was Valah’s hand that cast the One into the depths,” he informed her. “His suffering is of prime importance.”

 

_ So first goes the hand in the third drain,  _ Cat thought while consulting the rhymes on her journal.

 

“And the ring?” She reluctantly asked. She had wanted to sell it, as it looked rather valuable, but it was obvious that it was one of the clues, and so she would have to part with it.

 

“It is not first, nor does it belong in the third pipe.”

 

_ No, there goes the hand. The ring poem was written on the first pipe, so it’s either the second or the last. Let’s discard our options. _

 

“What of… your friend's blood?” She requested in a softer tone, fully aware of the man’s grief.

 

Quallo said nothing and turned away, his gaze locked on the chopped carrion crawler’s body. Cat wondered who it had been and what it had meant to the haunted man before they failed to solve the riddle.

 

“Quallo? I also found the staff…”

 

The man snapped from his trance and took the offered weapon. He ran a skeletal hand along it, then gave it back to Cat.

 

“The staff shall seal the bargain and prove your worth.”

 

_ I got it! _

 

“Thank you for your assistance,” Cat smiled. “You are suffering, dying; you are beyond any help anyone could give you… and I promised my friends some blood.”

 

The man nodded. He did not resist the adventurers’ onslaught, and soon he fell dead to the floor, butchered and mauled beyond recognition.

 

“Eugh! That sod was rotten inside!” Korgan complained when he saw a fetid fluid emanating from the corpse, its hue somewhere between green and yellow, along with the almost black blood that stinked of undeath, even though Quallo didn't qualify as such.

 

No, he was more similar to…

 

“Irenicus,” Cat suddenly whispered. “So this is what’s happening to him? Is that why he wants my essence?”

 

Everyone turned to the mage, shocked at her words.

 

“He doesn't look exactly pretty, either, and he also smells as if he’s been dead for years,” she explained, eyes fixed on the corpse whose blood and bodily fluids mixed with the filthy water of the sewers.

 

“Well, excuse  _ me, I  _ have been dead for  _ centuries  _ and I certainly don't smell like that,” Hexxat interjected, offended.

 

“No, no, neither Quallo nor Irenicus are undead… not exactly,” Cat elaborated, waving her hands to shake off the Chultan's accusation. “Besides, you vampires are different from other undead beings… but those two are not the same. They are… cursed.”

 

So that was it? Irenicus had been somehow cursed and he hoped to find a cure for his ailment in the blood of a dead god? It was insane, but knowing the wizard’s extremely methodical approach to all his endeavors, it was undoubtedly more than just a wild guess he was taking. Right then, Cat wished she hadn't allowed her companions to kill Quallo. She would need to investigate about such curses; that could prove to be a weak point for her enemy.

 

“Let’s keep moving for now,” Cat said. “I think I know how to get the sword.”

 

* * *

“Hey, sword!” Cat called, again at the room where the four drains were. “I refuse to get into that muddy water, so there you go!”

 

The witch threw the hand into the third pipe with striking accuracy. The pipe glowed for a moment and the hand closed into a fist, signaling that she had made the right choice.

 

“Now, the ring…”

 

“Like Hells you will!” Viconia snapped, taking the ring from the mage’s hands and placing it in her sling. “Where to?”

 

“First pipe,” Cat replied, with an eyebrow raised in amusement at the priestess’ outburst. Of course, her elven senses made her far more dexterous than Cat, so she didn’t mind the drow taking over her task.

 

Instead of waving her sling, Viconia stretched it like the string of a bow, and then shot the ring straight into the first pipe. It glowed like the third one, indicating that they were still doing well, and once the light faded, the ring began to emanate a soft gleam of its own.

 

“Only two to go,” Cat announced, handing Viconia the vial filled with the blood of Quallo’s friend. “Second pipe.”

 

Viconia repeated the procedure, making the second pipe glow for a moment. Then, the water of the pool turned crimson. Only the staff remained…

 

“Lemme take care of this,” Korgan offered, “it can nae be much different from throwin’ an axe.”

 

While he swung the staff into the fourth pipe, Viconia placed a hand on Cat’s shoulder.

 

“As much as I am loathe to admit it, you have done a good job,” she said. “I apologize for calling you an  _ elg’caress _ .”

 

“And I apologize for threatening to cut your ears off,” Cat replied with a sheepish smile, averting her eyes from the priestess’ in shame.

 

“But I stand my ground about your pronunciation. It will need some work if you are to speak my noble tongue,” Viconia continued, haughty.

 

Cat looked back at her in utter surprise, ignoring the glowing mess of the pool behind her, or the fact that the water had turned  _ green. _

 

“Are you saying you’ll teach me drow language?”

 

“Why not? There seems to be nothing you aren’t willing to learn anyway,” the Sharran chuckled.

 

The drow was caught off guard by Cat’s bear hug. Somehow, her hold was really strong.

 

“Oh, thank you so much, Vicky! Can I call you Vicky?” She asked in excitement.

 

“No,” Viconia drawled. “And I really think we should pay attention to whatever’s going on in that pool.”

 

From the glowing water emerged a greatsword, filthy with all the dirt from the pond, yet no less magnificent in any way. A scream echoed somewhere as Cat grabbed its hilt, using a handkerchief so as not to stain her hand. The pool stopped glowing, the objects placed in the drains disappeared, and Cat left the sword on the floor to examine it further. She used the handkerchief to clean up the accumulated grime from who knows how many years of dwelling in the sewers, and then recited an identify spell to read the runes inscribed along the blade. Her eyes widened, and she had to repress a chuckle.

 

“Dorn, come over, you just got yourself a better sword!”

 

The half-orc greedily picked up the greatsword, giving Cat her half-brother’s Sword of Chaos to throw into Dragomir’s Respite. By that point, Hexxat had given up on trying to convince the mage not to use her only means of survival as a bag of holding and just sighed, hoping the edge of the sword wouldn’t poke through her coffin if she ever needed to rest in it. In the meantime, Dorn threw a few swings, trying the sword’s balance and weight. He looked satisfied. Suddenly, a voice came from within the sword itself.

 

“Hot butta!”

 

“What—”

 

“Okay, listen, beefy:” the sword told Dorn, “I may be an intelligent sword, but I’ve had no formal edumication.”

 

“Cat? What’s the meaning of this?”

 

The witch broke into hysterical laughter.

 

“I mean,  _ it is  _ a powerful sword that will make you immune to enchantments and states of confusion,” she tried to explain between laughs, “but it turns out it harbors the soul of some idiotic warrior called Lawrence Lilarcor, and it might… talk to you from time to time… or maybe all the time.”

 

“I love the smell of daisies in the morning!” Lilarcor sighed.

 

“CAT!”

 

“Now, let’s go rescue those slaves with our new powerful weapon,” she cackled as she ran away from the half-orc’s wrath.

* * *

The stairs that led to the slavers’ secret hideout were hidden by a thick curtain of cobwebs, though no spiders could actually be seen. Hexxat found it while she was dismantling yet another trap, and everyone followed into the traffickers’ den.

 

There were many of them, more than Cat had honestly expected, all armed to the teeth with swords and longbows. There was a priest of Cyric among their ranks, which prompted Viconia to cast a chaotic commands spell on Korgan as soon as she spotted him, certain that he would try to mess with their minds, and aware that the dwarf was the least wise of the lot. Cat prepared a spell of protection against fear for the exact same purpose while Hexxat and Yoshimo quaffed potions of invisibility to go after the priest. Korgan and Dorn unsheathed their weapons, ready to hack their way towards the most immediate threat. One of the marksmen positioned to the right shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Cat.

 

“You! Whore of the Slums! How dare you! We were doin’ good business in this town before you took out my partner, Lehtinan, at the Copper Coronet! Why are you out to ruin me?”

 

Cat’s spell washed over her companions, infusing them with valor. She pointed her wand of lightning at the man who spoke, smiling and letting rage take control.

 

“Reasons don’t matter to the dead.”

 

“I’ll get you butchered for this!” The slaver shouted.

 

“Bah!” Korgan spat on the floor, which Cat found extremely appropriate for the kind of place they were in. “Even I would nae trade children an’ women as if they were cattle! Let us plant an axe firmly in their skulls, Kitty!”

 

No sooner than the dwarf spoke, Cat released a lightning bolt that struck the leader of the slavers dead, and then turned in a ninety degree arch, hitting the bowmen who flanked the priest. Korgan’s axe hit the enemy fighter’s sword, sending sparks all around. As the cleric began to chant a prayer, Hexxat's short sword pierced his side, making him bend over in pain. The vampire took the opportunity to find his neck and suck his blood. The Cyricist smacked her with his holy symbol, forcing her to retreat with a low hiss. By then, however, Cat had already prepared her next spell, and an acid arrow entered the priest’s wounded side, further opening the puncture between his ribs and dissolving the flesh around. With the holy power of Shar, Viconia propelled a bullet that hit the man’s head, making him stumble, and Yoshimo took the chance to slash his back with his katana, leaving a deep, bloody gash. Once the closest fighters were dispatched, Dorn and Korgan joined weapons in a combined attack, each coming at the priest from a side in a downward, diagonal slash that split the cleric in two, his upper body taking a v-shape, his arms hanging from a thin layer of skin, almost completely detached from the rest of his body. Not that they would be of any use to him, now that he was dead.

 

After that, dealing with the surviving warriors and bowmen was child’s play, and soon the secret hideout was turned into a bloody mess. Spending a few seconds to take in her surroundings –the wooden floor splattered with blood, the bodies scattered through the floor, some cut to pieces, others charred like coal, exuding a stench of burned flesh Cat had already got used to by that point–, the witch smiled… Yes, that was beautiful. Even despite her inner rage still clawing at her insides for more. She ignored it by clapping her hands and congratulating her comrades for yet another job well done.

 

“Let’s go search for the slaves,” she said. “One of these idiots has to have the keys to their cells.”

 

Indeed, the leader of the slavers had a set of keys in his pocket. The group quickly got to open the locked doors where the women and children had been piled in.

 

“You would not feel comfortable in the Underdark,  _ abbil _ ,” Viconia commented as Cat calmed the scared slaves and assured them they had come to their rescue. “My kind is too fond of slavery.”

 

“Sounds like they suck,” the witch replied as she guided the scared crowd to the opposite exit of the quarters, curious to find out where exactly the trading had been taken place. “I hope I never have to venture there.”

 

“A hope we both share,” Viconia whispered, nodding, her eyes lost in memories of a past darker than the deity she worshipped.

 

The slaver headquarters turned out to be the ship that somehow ended up stranded on the slums. Who would have thought they’d be carrying out their activities in such a flashy building, if it could even be called that? Then again, hiding in plain sight was not an uncommon technique, and it was likely to work if not abused. Cat reckoned that she probably should have thought of it sooner, but now the slave trade had ended once and for all, so there was no use chiding herself about it.

 

At the Copper Coronet, the slaves ran to their relatives and loved ones, glad to be finally reunited. Hendak hugged his wife and daughter and received all those who had no one, assuring them that they would be well taken care of and that they’d receive the Lady’s protection. Many thanked Cat in person for her involvement with them, and she began her usual act of telling them how everyone should have equal opportunities to either thrive or fail. Then, she introduced all of them to the concept of death as an equalizing force that should not be feared, but rather embraced, and affirmed that the only possible way to do so was through freedom. Her public stood around her, charmed by the infinite possibilities she offered. Some, like Hendak’s wife; a fierce woman by the name of Tanja, had already made up their mind about embracing death through murder, vowing that she would rid the city of any possible slaver scum left… and of rapists, too. At that point, Hendak broke into inconsolable weeping, and Tanja took him in her arms to give him some comfort. Cat let the man take a few days off with his family, and complimented the woman for her resolve, deeming it admirable. Then, a girl no older than fifteen, with fiery red hair and freckles all over her face, took a few timid steps in her direction.

 

“Excuse me, Lady,” she said in but a whisper. “What of us who… well… kill just for the joy of it?”

 

The witch raised an eyebrow. The teenager showed her a tiny broken knife, all rusted and useless.

 

“I took my family with it,” she giggled, a bit anxious, “and I tried to use it to defend myself from the slavers, but they broke it and kicked me until I fell unconscious.”

 

Cat put a hand on her shoulder. She gasped and tensed up.

 

“What’s your name, girl?” Cat asked.

 

“M-Mareesha,” the girl stammered, unable to meet the witch’s gaze.

 

“Well, then, Mareesha,” Cat patted her back affectionately, “yours is the purest of motivations for murder; the thrill of it. We’ll have to get you a new knife. Oh, and no killing any of our people. You may participate in mercy killings and offerings, though. Anyone who doesn't belong with us is fair game. Understood?”

 

Mareesha’s eyes lit up.

 

“Thank you, Lady!”

* * *

The day was long, as Cat had to introduce all her new protégés to her teachings, as well as performing ritual killings. From time to time, people came to her, to offer the lives they no longer wanted to live. She and those who wished to engage granted them a quick, painless end. That day there had been more than a few, and she had to teach the new meat the proper techniques. So by the end of the day, she was looking forward to sinking in her pool for a long bath, and then going to bed. While still diving in the fresh water, she heard a knock on her door. Sighing, she covered herself in a towel –even though Amnians were less prudish than the people of the Sword Coast, they still frowned upon nudity. Had she known who waited behind the door, she wouldn’t have bothered.

 

“I was hoping you would let me in tonight,” Dorn greeted her with a lopsided grin, his backpack, and thankfully no armor to unnecessarily delay their time together.

 

“How could I refuse?” Cat chuckled as she let him in and dropped the towel.

 

After setting the backpack aside, Dorn stood still, admiring the view of Cat’s naked body as she crept to his side, letting her arms snake around him from under his shirt, in order to feel his warm skin. She kissed him hungrily, and he pulled her into a tight embrace.

 

“You intrigue me, Cat,” he said after they parted the kiss, caressing her wet strands of hair. “I’ve waited a long time to find one such as you. You remind me of my father sometimes.”

 

The witch cringed and escaped the hold of his arms to glare at him.

 

“Your father? That bastard you told me about who let the other kids of your clan bully you for your mixed heritage, when he wasn’t beating the shit out of you himself?”

 

“I did not mean it that way,” Dorn shook his head. “He was strong and ruthless with his enemies, and though he was no leader like you, others looked up to him.”

 

“Yourself included, I suppose,” Cat sighed. Dorn really had a lot of baggage to get rid of, but she knew she would accomplish nothing by trying to rush things.

 

“In my tribe, the strong survived and the weak perished. Those were our ways,” he explained. “He was strong, and I wished to be so too.”

 

“Your wish has most definitely come true,” Cat chuckled, feeling up his well toned abs. Dorn took off his shirt with a huff so she could grope him more comfortably.

 

“Now, about what you said before…” she purred as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss his earlobe. “I’ve also waited a long time for such as you.”

 

“So would you proceed down this path?” Dorn asked as he untied his breeches.

 

Cat waited until he was fully undressed to reply. She circled him with her arms. Standing just like that, body to body, it was just… perfection. Cat chuckled as her fingers traced the outline of her lover’s back.

 

“You’re a bloodthirsty half-orc whose heart and soul are shrouded in darkness. We’re perfect for each other.”

 

“I could not agree more,” Dorn rumbled as he began to kiss down the witch's neck as his hands kept wandering her curvaceous figure.

 

“I look forward to seeing what you do next,” the witch whispered in his ear, running her fingers down his coal black hair.

 

Malice and mischief glinted in the half-orc's eyes.

 

“You’ll like it, I assure you.”

 

“I hope you’re right, Dorn—for your sake,” Cat said in a hushed tone as she grabbed hold of what she could fit in her small hand of the half-orc's thick neck, applying just the right amount of pressure to it to feel his now more shallow breath quicken with excitement. She grinned, glancing down to check that, indeed, he was fully aroused now.

 

He easily got rid of the hand and rummaged in his backpack. He retrieved a set of handcuffs and chains. Cat raised an eyebrow in slight amusement. Did he really take that from the slavers for that purpose?

 

“Good,” he replied in a husky tone, showing his sharp tusks in a predatory smile. “I enjoy a challenge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from The Best by James Bay. Thought I'd might as well go for something romantic here.
> 
> I swear all of Dorn's kinks hereby depicted so far are canon. I can't help myself, I'm way too self-indulging -though I get the feeling at least some of you won't complain about it. As always, feedback is immensely appreciated, you people push me forward and keep me going <3


	11. The mole, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat is left no option but to go visit Renal Bloodscalp, leader of the Shadow Thieves of Athkatla, and she learns some disturbing news. Also, trouble in paradise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMFG this chapter got so long that I had to split it into two! So here's the first part, I really hope you enjoy it!

 

_In a room we slept in_

_Five senses collecting_

_Like we're fingerprinting_

_Handwriting in the water_

_Like a bell under water_

* * *

 

It was amazing how love could change a person, how it could drive them to trust their loved one to the degree of allowing them what would never be tolerated from anyone else; how one could feel safe no matter what kind of activity they engaged in.

 

Dorn explained to Cat how much seeing her in chains at the Flaming Fist castle had affected him, how much he regretted having to leave her behind. Even long after his departure from Baldur's Gate, he had fantasized time and time again of somehow having found a potion of cloud giant strength to bend the bars that bid him from reaching Cat, to rip her bloodsoaked shirt and take her right there, one more time, before releasing her. With the chains and the cuffs he found at the slavers’ den, he would be able to play out that fantasy… as long as she was up for it. He was well aware of her long, excruciating captivity at Irenicus’ dungeon, so he wanted to make sure that trying out his suggestion would not bring out painful memories. She assured him that it would only remind her of the way he looked at her during his visit to her prison cell; the things he said to her. She hadn't forgotten, either. And truth be told, she had fantasized about such a rescue as well.

 

However, she hadn't expected his other request. He had been quite observant of her high tolerance to –and mild taste for– pain, and he wondered if she would like to further explore it. Another potentially sensitive issue, but one that could work wonderfully if properly done, in her opinion. When Cat asked him to elaborate, he gave her a firm smack on the ass… and then retrieved Cat’s girdle from her discarded clothes, watching her as he awaited a response.

 

“Not with the buckle side, that's for damn sure,” she replied after giving it some brief thought. “Try the other one?”

 

Dorn cracked the belt, and Cat took a sharp intake of breath when it hit her rear with a loud whack. She immediately felt the blackguard's soothing hand caressing the area as he leaned down to speak to her.

 

“How was that? Too much?”

 

With her body still shaking from the shock, Cat turned to grab him and pull him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

 

“That was perfect. Let’s try it. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

 

And so, she ended up chained to a couple candle holders on the wall she had never bothered to use, since they were too high up for her short stature. Her movements weren't too restricted, much like at the Flaming Fist’s cell, but her arms were held up, so whatever Dorn did to her, she wouldn't be able to do much to reciprocate.

 

Right then, he was walking his way around her, his eyes leering over every part of her body. Behind her, he pressed his body to hers, letting his hands wander her front, delicate like the former night, yet setting every inch of skin he touched on fire. She wriggled her ass against his already hard cock, eager for more. There came the first slap, and her whole body jerked against her will as she let out a shocked gasp. After the initial ache, the affected area of her buttock tingled, and she hummed in delight. Soon came another slap, and another, and in no time she was completely out of breath, holding onto her chains for dear life. Then, she felt Dorn's calloused hands fondling her reddened, mistreated behind, and he whispered in her ear.

 

“I’ve left marks. I must say I rather like how my hands look on you.”

 

“You'd better not have done anything permanent,” Cat turned to glare at the half-orc. He really seemed to be enjoying himself.

 

“Worry not, they’ll disappear in little time,” he replied as he squeezed her ass just a little bit, the grin he exhibited growing when he heard her whimper in response. “Would you rather stop now?”

 

Cat snorted, trying to look and sound haughty and proud despite her desperation to be touched again.

 

“Hah! This was just a warm-up.”

 

“Very well. I shall begin with the belt.”

 

There was something in Dorn's smirk as he turned to gaze at Cat before picking up her girdle that sent shivers down her spine. 

 

_ Why am I not surprised at all that he’s so much into sadism? _

 

She wasn't worried, though. What was transpiring between them could not be any further from the actual torture she suffered at Irenicus’ hand. She had control over the situation, there was mutual consent, and she was in fact rather turned on by Dorn's rough ministrations. Not to mention he never ripped her open, physically or psychically, to look inside her innards or mind, respectively. There was literally nothing Dorn did that went against her will. His imposing, almost intimidating appearance with his improvised whipping tool in his hand only added to Cat's excitement.

 

Then came the first whip. Cat cried out. The bastard was hitting her harder than before. She could practically feel his stare on her from behind; his sneer at her reaction. And he whipped her again, making her bend forward and hiss in pain, her knuckles white from the death grip on her chains. Of course, that only made her ass stick out more, something she knew excited her lover like little else did. So he began to crack the belt over and over, pleased and encouraged by Cat's cries and her trembling body. Now  _ that  _ was going to leave bruises.

 

“Okay, stop!” She pleaded before going back to gritting her teeth from the pain. She could barely feel her hands now, and the ache on her ass had become much sharper. But  _ damn,  _ she loved it.

 

Dorn immediately obeyed her command and took the lubricant from his backpack. He not only applied it on himself, but also on Cat's buttocks, rubbing it in circles in a slow, delicate motion which was a stark contrast for his earlier treatment of that particular part of her body.

 

“Does it feel better now?” He asked.

 

Cat nodded.

 

“I don't think I’ll be able to sit for a week,” she joked, pouting.

 

“Let’s put that to the test,” Dorn grunted as he grabbed her by the rear and lifted her with little to no effort.

 

Cat wrapped her legs around Dorn's waist and let out a loud moan as he pushed her down and thrusted himself inside her. He then kissed her, nipping at her tongue as he moved in and out of her with quick thrusts. Tightening the grip at his waist, Cat tried to move along with him, howling and throwing her head back in ecstasy. Dorn took the chance to attack her neck, biting and sucking on it as he pounded harder and harder into her, his hands on her ass supporting her with bruising force as she began to shout his name. All of a sudden, he pushed her down to him, all growls and snarls, and he came inside her as he bit into her shoulder. Cat tilted her head to kiss the tip of his ear.

 

“I take you liked it?” She purred.

 

Dorn looked back up at her with that same lusty look in his eye as when he chained her up. He grinned, showing off his sharp tusks.

 

“‘Liked’? I’m not done yet,” he replied as he let go of the surprised mage.

 

_ Multiorgasmic, huh? Now  _ that's  _ interesting… _

 

Dorn didn’t allow her much time to dwell on the discovery before his mouth was at her core, thrilled to find that she was still on her period, and he drank her up, allowing his own seed inside his mouth along with her blood. He didn't stop until Cat's legs were trembling from her orgasm and her voice was hoarse from the mewls and moans he coaxed from her. Then he stood back up, grabbed her by her chin and kissed her, sharing the mixed fluids with her as his tongue searched for hers. When they parted, he fred her from her chains. Cat rubbed her wrists, which were kind of sore from their former activities. She tilted her head and shot Dorn a curious look.

 

“Would you like me to reciprocate?”

 

Dorn raised an eyebrow as he picked up the chains and cuffs from the wall.

 

“You wish to cuff me and spank me?”

 

“Would you like me to?” Cat asked again, running a single finger down her lover's chest, blissful to finally be able to touch him.

 

“You are welcome to try,” he replied with a malicious smirk, as he laid face up on the bed.

 

Cat unlatched the chains from the cuffs and used the latter to restrain Dorn's hands, clicking the cuffs shut around the bedposts. Wordlessly, he turned on his stomach to allow her to begin her work. When he heard her chant a spell, however, he tried to jerk upright to see what the Hells was going on.

 

“Easy,” Cat chuckled as she felt her muscles growing. “It’s just a strength spell… so you remember not to underestimate my capabilities again.”

 

“Hrmm, you mages sure are full of surprises,” Dorn commented as he laid back. “Perhaps we should try sparring after you've cast that spell on yourself.”

 

“Perhaps,” Cat agreed, getting a hold of her belt. “But for now, I have a better use for it.”

 

She began with her hands, giving him a few firm slaps, satisfied to see her mark imprinted on his skin, savoring the way his whole body jolted when she hit him and the delightful sound of his grunts. What she didn't expect was for the activity to leave her own hands tingling; even his ass was firm muscle. So she was quick to switch to the belt. She leaned in to whisper in his ear.

 

“I’m warning you. I won't stop until you’re begging.”

 

“Those are big words,” Dorn replied, visibly excited. “You’ll have to prove you can live up to them.”

 

First strike and he groaned. The next few drew even louder sounds. She never thought she’d see or hear him like that, completely at her mercy. So she became more and more vicious, fascinated by his moans and the bruises already forming in his skin. Yes, it was the perfect payback.

 

“Enough of this!” He barked after some more smacking.

 

With an eyebrow raised and a cruel sneer, Cat hit him even harder.

 

“What did I say about begging?” She purred as she felt him quiver beneath her.

 

He harrumphed, annoyed.

 

“Cat,  _ please _ , stop it,” he finally conceded, grouchy.

 

Giggling after getting what she wanted, Cat set the belt aside and massaged his probably sore ass with lubricant, like he had done her.

 

“Better?” She asked, in a much sweeter tone.

 

“You have good hands,” he murmured, his whole body relaxing under her gentler touch.

 

As she caressed him, she got an idea.

 

“Hey, I was wondering… Have you ever, you know, been the one receiving?”

 

For further explanation, she let a finger trace his entrance, not lingering too much for fear of making him uncomfortable.

 

“I have always been open to pleasure of all kinds, so yes, I have,” he replied, cocking his head back to make eye contact with her. He was smirking like he always did in those situations. “Why? Are you curious to try?”

 

“If you're up for it,” Cat replied without hesitation.

 

“Then lubricate your finger,  _ and  _ me. A little bit should be enough,” he instructed.

 

“A little bit, huh?”

 

Dorn drew a shallow gasp when he felt her tongue delving into him, teasing all around before sticking the tip inside. He opened his legs further and she spread his buttocks to reach him better. He writhed, shuddered, called for Cat as she devoured him. Being in that position for a change with Dorn was completely new to her, and it aroused her to no end. When she decided she had toyed with him for long enough, she took his lubricant and spread it on two of her fingers, and used a little extra bit on his entrance, just to be safe. She entered him slowly, feeling him tense at the sensation of her first finger, and began to explore, twisting and bending it, attentive to his reactions. When she found a spot that made him snarl and yank at his cuffs, she quickly drew out her finger, worried that she had hurt him.

 

“Why have you stopped?” He growled instead.

 

“I thought I hurt you,” Cat explained, surprised at his angered reaction.

 

“Keep touching me there,” he breathed as a response, turning to glare at her for the offense of denying him pleasure.

 

She didn't need to be told twice. In a heartbeat, both of her lubricated fingers were deep in her lover's ass, bending to reach his favorite spot again, fondling it with insistence and revelling in his screams.

 

“Stop, I want  _ you _ now,” Dorn panted after a while, sweat dripping down his forehead.

 

Cat pulled her fingers out of him and allowed him to turn on his back. His cock was even harder than before, and he looked up at her with anticipation as she sat on his lap, straddling his waist. She teased him a bit further, rubbing her sex against his and retreating as he buckled up his hips with a strained groan. He looked rather desperate to be inside her, and she found that she rather liked that side of him. Pressing her body to his, she aligned herself to him and grabbed his cock, making him hiss at the attention. She slipped his head inside herself as they shared a long kiss that left her breathless. Moving at a leisurely pace, she took more and more of him as he pushed himself up to meet her, aiming for a deeper penetration. She left a trail of kisses, nicks and licks down his neck, collarbone and chest, and then;  _ then _ she sat up while he gave a stronger push, and oh,  _ Gods,  _ he was fully in. She let out a strangled cry; his size combined with that position made him reach  _ very  _ deep inside her, indeed. So much that it was painful, but not enough to turn her off or keep her from supporting herself on the half-orc's chest and beginning to move, picking up a quicker pace as she moaned and moaned his name. From time to time, she leaned against him to kiss him and nip at his chin, never stilling the roll of her hips, and he began to pull at his cuffs,  _ actually applying strength. _ Her heart pounding on her chest at seeing him struggle against his restraints, she decided to fuel his desire with a long lick at his sensitive ears.

 

With a snarl, he broke the cuffs.

 

Suddenly, his hands were all over her, touching everything that had been out of his reach until that very moment, leaving scratches and bruises wherever he knew wouldn't cause too much damage, and pulling her up to suck on her breasts as she continued to ride him, undone by his rough touch. Then, he latched his hands to her hips, reopening the closing wounds from his claws, and pushed her up and down,  _ hard.  _ It added to her momentum, and he met her with his own hips as he sucked her nipples, circling them with his tongue. She responded by pulling at his earrings, something she had once found excited him, and the sucking turned into tiny bites. Just a scrap of his teeth on her sensitive skin, but enough to make her wail with the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. She clawed at his shoulders, screaming as she felt her climax nearing, and he sat up to kiss her. She circled his neck with her arms, desperate to be closer, closer to him, and he brought her over the edge with a few deep thrusts while he trapped her bottom lip with his tusks, savoring his own release. They stayed like that for a little while, locked together in a tight embrace as they regained their breaths, but the laws of physics did not work in their favor; now that Dorn was completely spent, his cock was slipping out, so the pair had to be quick to get out of the bed to prevent stained sheets. After washing up, they got back into the soft linens and pillows –that time, Cat didn't forget her underwear–, and Dorn spooned Cat and left soft kisses on her shoulders and neck that made her giggle with a silly, fuzzy feeling. It didn't take them long to fall asleep.

* * *

“Cat,” Dorn called, annoyed, for the upteenth time.

 

However, the merry sleeping woman sprawling across him, with her legs somehow tangled with his, gave no sign of hearing him. Dorn huffed. It was almost midday, and surely everyone else would be wondering where the Hells she was. Time to resource to cunning.

 

“Korgan came earlier and smoked all of your black lotus.”

 

“THAT BASTARD!” Cat shot awake in less than a second. “I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!”

 

“Ah, finally, a reaction,” an amused Dorn gruffed as he sat up and stretched.

 

“Wait, you were lying?” Cat gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

 

“Haven’t you noticed how late it is?” he replied, gesturing at the abundant sunlight that entered the room from Cat's window.

 

She looked around for a moment in silence. It quickly hit her.

 

“Shit.”

 

Dorn circled her waist and pulled her to him, then kissed her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She responded by running her hands through his hair, sighing in utter bliss at their closeness.

 

“You take risks by oversleeping like that, Cat,” he half scolded, half advised the witch, cocking his head to the side. “But, I’ll admit last night was intense.”

 

He paused to kiss her lips, nipping at them with his tusks. He then admired the small closing puncture he gave her in his ecstasy the night before.

 

“I believe our exertions left us both very much satisfied?” He asked, though his cocky grin let the woman know he already knew the answer.

 

Oh, well, it wasn't like she really minded.

 

“Definitely,” she purred, flicking a finger up the length of his ear. “I believe I will require a repeated performance. Many times over.”

 

“Very good,” Dorn nodded as he traced her curvy outline with his fingers. “ I appreciate a woman who knows where her pleasure lies.”

 

Then he kissed her again, with more ferocity. She moaned as his tongue forcibly parted her lips to swirl in her mouth, pushing at hers. When he let her go, she was gasping for air.

 

“In any case, we might have to do this again soon, Cat,” he whispered, his lips still brushing hers.

 

Needless to say, Cat was unable to get her mind out of the gutter for the rest of the day.

* * *

“Ready, then?”

 

Hexxat sighed, eyeing the tiny mechanism warily. She pulled her hood further down in an almost involuntary motion.

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she droned as a response.

 

Cat took the vampire's cold hand into hers and gave it a soft squeeze.

 

“Hey, I’ll be here throughout the process, and I’ll supply as much healing as I can.”

 

Hexxat smiled at her leader. It was a wonder how she could instill trust with such ease. But then again, she was probably the most understanding person the thief had ever met in her long life. Which didn't say much in favor of any of her other acquaintances.

 

“I know,” she finally replied, before activating the trap like Shantir had instructed her to.

 

The proud engineer had optimized the mechanism, reducing it to the size of a pebble and giving it that exact appearance to no expert eyes. Inside, it featured a body heat reader created from a potion of infravision and a motion detector crafted from oil of speed. Combined, the two gadgets detected motion in an ample radius and area; and whenever they registered a temperature below the minimum a living being could survive, they’d become activated, wiping out any vampire in their proximity. As soon as Hexxat activated the mechanism, an explosion of light hit her, making her screech and retreat into the least illuminated corner she was able to find.

 

“My eyes!” She shrieked, covering her face with blistered hands as Cat quickly got to her side to heal her with her divine power.

 

“It’s okay, Hexxat, it’s over,” Cat soothed her as the much softer blue glow of her hands healed the vampire's burns. “You’ve done great.”

 

“What? Scorch myself? Indeed I have,” Hexxat retorted, her voice still a bit pained.

 

“Sorry we had to make you go through this,” Shantir apologized, crouching beside the vampire and offering her a hand. “But your help has been instrumental for the success of these little beauties; we can already begin mass production.”

 

Cat turned to the engineer, enthusiasm showing on her face.

 

“Really? Will you be needing any help? Just name who you think would be best for getting the job done, and I’ll put them to work for you,” she said with a triumphant beam. Finally, they’d be able to turn the tide of the guild war.

 

“And what will become of me?” Hexxat interrupted, bitter. “Surely you won’t expect me to be locked in here all day  _ and all night _ to avoid the traps?”

 

Cat comforted her uneasy companion.

 

“Worry not; I have designed a spell that we can apply to the traps so they won't affect you. I’ll just need a tiny bit of your blood so I can work out the formula.”

 

Hexxat groaned as she got back to her feet, accepting Shantir's hand.

 

“My flesh, my blood… what else will you demand of me, Lady?”

 

The witch chuckled.

 

“Definitely not your life.”

 

Hexxat snorted. Yes,  _ that  _ was how she gained people's trust.

 

Shantir cleared her voice. Hexxat's eyes snapped to the other Chultan woman. It felt strange to know she hailed from her same birthplace, but several centuries later. She once claimed she dressed and styled her hair on the fashion her people did during her childhood, and wondered how much everything changed since she was captured and turned into a slave. Hexxat sometimes wondered much the same, and whether she’d be able to recognize Mezro at all.

 

“Well, I certainly wouldn't recommend Hexxat to work with trinkets designed to kill her kind, but perhaps that Kara-Turan you travel with, Yoshimo, wasn't it?” Shantir provided. “Maybe he could help.”

 

“I’m afraid he’ll be busy helping  _ me _ out,” Cat shook her head.

 

*~*~*

 

Up to date, Dorn was the only one who knew, and Cat preferred to keep it that way, but she was sure Yoshimo not only had been associated with Irenicus, but said association was far from over. His nervousness whenever the Shadow Thieves were brought up, along with his eagerness to go present his respect to Renal Bloodscalp, screamed about his intentions. Cat was determined to expose him, but first she needed to prepare the false dawn traps for the vampires. And due to Yoshimo's involvement with their rivals, she’d much rather not grant him too much information about her activities to accelerate and recrudesce the war.

 

Shantir nodded courtly, but Cat could tell she was not happy. Too bad for her; she wouldn't change her mind.

 

“Well, then Mina could be of use… I promise I won't let her distract me,” she chuckled. Her relationship with her girlfriend appeared to only get better and better. She had recently taught her how to craft constructs, and showed her what she was working on for their Lady… with Cat's permission, of course.

 

“I trust you,” Cat nodded with a smile, certain that allowing her that little indulgence would make her forget about Yoshimo.

 

“And the new girl, Mareesha… she sneaked in here yesterday to spy on me, so I let her try out some of my tools. She has a knack for it. She's smart.”

 

“Fine, I’ll have her work with you,” Cat conceded.  _ Better watch your back with that one. _

 

Then, Shantir named a list of other skillful employees which could help her build the artifacts. Cat noted them all and allowed the woman to have them under her wing in order to begin production. Everything was going smoothly. At least, until a deafening crack came from somewhere outside, and the floor began to shake beneath the three women’s feet.

 

“To the floor! It’s an earthquake!” Hexxat shouted.

 

Cat obliged, but she felt something… The thin, sparse hair on her arms was standing, her skin was covered in goosebumps, and she smelled something odd, like electricity; something that shouldn't be sensed through smell.

 

“This is no ordinary earthquake,” she warned the other two. “It’s magic!”

 

As soon as it receded, she reunited her group, though not before instructing Shantir to get to work on the traps despite  _ anything _ . The strangest view awaited her when she climbed to the roof of her inn; at the northwest end of the slums, a giant chrome sphere had materialized out of nowhere, collapsing against a couple nearby shacks, smashing them and absorbing part of one into it. Cat felt that indescriptible sensation again; it was powerful magic indeed. It could only be…

 

“A planar sphere!” She exclaimed. “I’ve read about such things, but never in my wildest dreams had I ever expected to see one in person! Let’s check it out!”

 

Unfortunately for her, the Cowled Wizards had been faster. They were already all over the place, trying in vain to find a way to unlock the sphere and unveil its secrets. Cat motioned her companions to stop, and spied from the corner of a side street.

 

“Aren’t those the ones who took Imoen?” Dorn rumbled behind her. “We should strike!”

 

Unlike him, Cat was paying very close attention to the kinds of spells they were using. It was advanced magic, and there were six of them. She turned to her lover and shook her head.

 

“They're too powerful for us. I’m afraid we can do nothing but watch, for now.”

 

As she spied on the mages, noting everything they did, she tried her best to ignore the piercing glare she could feel coming from Dorn without even having to turn back around. He was eager to engage in combat, but defying that specific group so soon would only result in their deaths. Indeed, it was time to pay the Shadow Thieves guild a visit. She would investigate the planar sphere later, with no other mages around.

 

* * *

The Athkatlan Shadow Thieves guild appeared to occupy most of the western area of the docks, and it could be told apart from the rest of the shacks on the area by the occasional armored figure standing vigilant in front of a door, or a shady personage discussing something in quiet hushes with the people behind the doors before being allowed in. It was a lot subtler than the Harpers’ headquarters, but it was still easy enough to find for whoever knew what to look for. That alone spoke volumes of the power that guild held over the city. If they were either mighty or wealthy enough for the authorities to turn a blind eye, it implied they had a great deal of control over organized crime.

 

“We’ll have to tread lightly now,” Cat warned her companions before entering the building Yoshimo had pointed to her. “Remember; the less they know the better.”

 

The inside of the thieves’ quarters could only be described as chaos. Ruffians ran around, barking orders at one another, or either played gambling games, sitting on storage boxes that occupied most of the space, along with barrels and barrels that gave off the strong scent of black lotus. Cat shot Hexxat a discreet glance; nodding, she took off her cloak. It was a bit of a risk, but it was said that stealing from a thief was one of the few things the gods did not frown upon. Not that Cat cared about their opinion; she just wanted her poison. It helped her focus and rest, and also keep her rage at bay.

 

After passing by several rooms and cringing at the present horror vacui, she climbed up a set of worn out wooden stairs that led to the higher floor. It was much less crowded over there; just a few men and women standing around whom Cat assumed would be Renal Bloodscalp. The human sported, indeed, a long ponytail dyed a bright scarlet. He was crouching, examining what appeared to be a map of the city and making some marks on it. When he heard the newcomers, he lifted his head and breamed upon recognizing Yoshimo. The bounty hunter became visibly tense. He really did fear that man.

 

Bloodscalp stood and clapped his hands, closing in the group with a few agile strides. He moved with feline grace, and Cat noticed many hiding places for knives in his good quality leathers.

 

“Now, just who do we got here?” He snickered. “Yoshimo, my good pal! So glad to see you around. And could this be… you must be Cat, right? Or should I say… the Lady of the Slums?”

 

Keeping a stoic façade turned tougher than usual for Cat.  _ He knew _ . It was to be expected that at some point, he would put two and two together, but still, she had made sure to deal with all the spies he sent to check on her movements… or at least most of them, it seemed. She faked a smile fast enough to pretend she didn't care.

 

“I see my fame precedes me,” she replied.

 

“Now, I understand you’re a woman who values her privacy, so I won't ask about the spies I sent after you, or hold you accountable for their disappearance,” he snorted, eyeing her as if he knew something she ignored. “After all, Yoshimo has told me enough, and my missing assets during this nasty conflict with  _ the others _ have been a higher concern at this time.”

 

“Oh, I see you two are good friends,” Cat commented, turning to scowl at a mortified Yoshimo. “I guess that's why he was so intent on coming to greet you.”

 

“Oh, yes, revealing your identity has earned him my pardon for his… irregularities,” Bloodscalp explained. “But I still needed him to bring you. You see, I can forgive Cat for keeping to herself, but the Lady of the Slums sending whores to seduce nobles and get the valuables we work so hard to steal? Not so good.”

 

Cat felt rage rise to her chest like a ready flame when he uttered the word “whores”. Who the Hells did this man think he was? However, voicing the offense she felt would get her nowhere. She took a deep breath and reminded herself of how much was at stake. Bloodscalp did not mention anything about the false dawn traps, so that meant Yoshimo either hadn't spied on her or had kept quiet on what little he knew about her involvement with the guild war. Otherwise, she was certain the leader of the Shadow Thieves would not have been so outwardly friendly.

 

“And I’m guessing you have summoned the Lady so she somehow makes up for her transgressions,” she asked with her most charming smile. If that fool thought he could intimidate her just like that, he was wrong.  _ Dead  _ wrong.

 

“Please understand, dear Lady, a thief has to eat. Now I do understand that you have mouths to feed too, what with running your little business at the Copper Coronet,” Bloodscalp smirked. “So perhaps we could solve this conflict if only you did a little favor to me?”

 

“What kind of favor?” Cat dropped her cheerful front. She would  _ not  _ get involved in the guild war, if that was what he was suggesting.

 

Bloodscalp laughed at her alarmed expression.  _ I’ll kill this bastard as soon as I get a chance,  _ Cat thought as she sent him a death glare.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s nothing that will compromise you or those you so fiercely protect,” he replied, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture. “I am sure you understand how important loyalty is to any leader, am I right?”

 

“Yes, you are,” she replied, crossing her arms and trying not to turn to Yoshimo.

 

“Well, I might be having… trouble in that respect.”

 

_ That makes two of us. _

 

“His name is Mae’Var. He’s been running one of my guildhouses to the south. Good thief, but never liked him,” Bloodscalp retold. “Now I know why. I’ve had some hints that he is getting too big for himself. Thinking of taking my place, I suspect, but I’ve had no real evidence to say that this is so.”

 

_ We seem to have a lot in common,  _ Cat thought, listening to the thief's tale with growing interest.

 

“Now, you’re likely thinking: why not just eliminate him? Yes, yes, I suppose I could,” Bloodscalp continued. “But without proof of betrayal, this would anger the other guildmasters and then I’d have a war on my hands and, well, just let it lie that I don't want that.”

 

So that was it. The reason why the Shadow Thieves didn't dare to strike back against the vampires. Cat had assumed they were just scared of their theoretical marcial superiority. But even if they had tasked thieves like Clara to devise the false dawn traps to stack the odds, how would they fight back if they were too busy fighting one another? That was the perfect opportunity to solve that problem.

 

_ You already have one war coming, Bloodscalp. _

 

“So I would like you to go to Mae’Var's and join his guild,” the thief finally revealed. “I will give you papers saying you were being transferred by the Shadow Master. You will spy on Mae’Var from the inside and find me the evidence that I need. Once he is damned with proof, you can take care of this nuisance and eliminate Mae’Var. One less headache for a busy man such as myself to be concerned with. You’ll need to reassure Mae’Var, naturally. He won't know who you are, but I am confident that you are more than capable of this.”

 

Then, he extended a hand for Cat to shake. She accepted it gracefully.

 

“Glad to make business with you, Lady,” he nodded at her with a cheeky grin.

 

“Likewise,” Cat replied, recovering her own smile. “Mae’Var won’t know what hit him.”

 

Once out of the guildhouse, Cat cleared her throat, her hands on her hips, a frown lining her eyebrows and her lips pursed.

 

“Yoshimo, when this issue with Bloodscalp is over, you and I are going to have some words,” she said, cold as ice, as she ventured south.

 

“I’m so sorry, Cat, he left me no option, he—”

 

“Save it!” She interrupted him with a harsh voice. “There is always an option. You just chose the wrong one.”

 

With that, she left, certain that her companions would follow. If Yoshimo thought he could get away with betrayal just like that, she would show him just how wrong he was.

 

* * *

Mae’Var's guild was a stark contrast from Renal’s. For one, the windows were even smaller, amounting only to arrow-slits. Only one tiny skylight on the roof could offer enough lighting for someone without infravision to see well, not to mention the accumulated dust, smoke and filth that made it nigh impossible for light to pass through. The interior was quite a difference, as well; it wasn't cluttered, just a small reception desk and a couple doors leading to the inside of the guild itself. At the desk sat a frowning man who leapt to his feet the moment he saw Cat and her companions at the door.

 

“Easy, friend,” Cat chuckled, raising her hands. “We’ve just been transferred to this guildhouse. We’ve brought the relevant papers.”

 

“And why didn't ya say that from the beginnin’?” The man gruffed as he yanked the documents from Cat's hand as she presented them to him. “Alright, it all looks good an’ proper, now go see Mae’Var at the basement an’ get out o’ my sight!”

 

“We’ll kill that guy first,” Cat muttered once they were out of earshot.

 

The reception inside wasn't much better. An assortment of miscreants and brutes shot the group dirty looks as they passed by. One of them stumbled in their direction, leering at Cat and reeking of stale wine.

 

“'Ey there cutie, how much’s a night?”

 

For all response, Cat shot an acid arrow at his groin. She heard whistles and cheers all around. It seemed she had managed to make a good impression. Neat. Besides, she didn't think Mae’Var would need his thieves to have functional reproductive organs in order to get the job done.

 

Dorn glared at the man as they reached the stairs down.

 

“He is lucky you reacted first,” he grumbled. “Had it been me, he would have lost his head.”

 

“Then we can all count ourselves lucky,” Cat retorted in a hush, so no one could hear. “We’re supposed to pretend to be working for Mae’Var; we won’t cause a good impression if we go around killing his assets in the open.”

 

Dorn opened his mouth to add something else, but in the last moment he seemed to think against it and kept quiet. Or maybe he was just surprised by the sight that awaited them all at Mae’Var's… dungeon? 

 

The ample basement the stairs led to was full of cells, some of them occupied by terrified prisoners. At the opposite end of the room, there was a wooden operation table. Cat remembered the one where she used to lay, helpless against Irenicus as he studied her, and began to find it hard to breathe. But that table was cold and metallic, not made of wood. She wasn’t at Irenicus’ dungeon; but Mae’Var's, and though he was currently busy torturing the unfortunate fool tied to the table, Cat seriously doubted that he’d be any worse than her own tormentor. In fact, now that she finally managed to reign in her shortening breath and calm down, she noted that Mae’Var pretty much sucked at torture, from what she was gathering.

 

The man finally noticed them and left his prisoner a moment of respite as he walked to meet his new “employees”. He wore a black hooded leather armor with flashy fuchsia pants. Cat wondered how effective such a garment would be at helping its wearer go unnoticed.

 

“Hello, then,” he greeted the group, not bothering to hide his disdain. “I certainly hope you have a good reason to be bothering me, because I’m quite busy, as you can see.”

 

“As a matter of fact, I see that I could actually be of some help here,” Cat replied, ignoring the shocked looks her companions gave her. “You see, if you wish to punish that man or extract information from him, then there are a couple beginner’s mistakes I've just noticed that could kill him before you’d like. If I may…”

 

Waiting for no answer, Cat closed the distance between her and the thief in a few decisive steps, and then drew her dagger from under her sleeve.

 

“See this bluish thing over there?” She signaled the victim’s thigh. “That's a common iliac artery; a branch of the aorta, and you have cut just shy off it. Pierce it and your pal here will bleed out in a matter of minutes. Besides, you’re aiming for too deep cuts. You might hit an organ if you keep it up. You don’t happen to have any salt or ground black pepper around, do you?”

 

“Do I look like a cook to you?” Mae’Var drawled, crossing his arms in impatience.

 

“You look like a torturer to me,” Cat was quick to reply, “and every torturer who values himself should have these spices at hand. Let’s take this stab wound, for instance.”

 

From one of the numerous hidden pockets in her robe, Cat produced a small sachet. She untied it and took a pinch of fine salt. She spread it on a gaping hole on the man’s abdomen –again, too close to the aorta–, and his screams acquired a deafening pitch. They didn't last long, for he passed out.

 

“Now, after this happens is when the psychological game should begin as well,” Cat continued her magistral lesson. “You could bring a loved one of his that you know of, or perhaps leave him alone with a bright light hanging over him. Of course, you’d first have to make sure his restraints will hold, and then—”

 

“I like you,” Mae’Var interrupted her, glancing at the unconscious man with approval. “But now, tell me a reason why I shouldn't kill you right now.”

 

“No need for that,” Cat immediately replied before any of her companions could draw their weapons. And by any, she was mainly thinking of Dorn. “I am here as reinforcement. Renal Bloodscalp sent me.”

 

“And I am sure you have letters of authorization or that sort of thing,” Mae’Var snorted, dismissive. “Irrelevant. How about we throw you on the rack and make sure you are who you say you are?”

 

Cat was about to reply that she had, in fact, been on a rack before –Irenicus was interested in the elasticity of her muscles and bones, and it took a very potent regenerative concoction for her to recover from the experience– and that there were much faster ways to make someone spill the beans, but Mae’Var threw his head back in a surprisingly hearty laugh.

 

“Or perhaps not,” he added, with a cruel chuckle. “Scared you did I?”

 

_ Not really. You are but a beginner at torture next to Irenicus. Or me. _

 

“Fear will keep you honest,” he affirmed. “You don’t want to end up like Lin here, with me having to test his honesty. Difficult to do with certainty.”

 

Cat nodded in faked approval.  _ This man is a walking disaster. He’d destroy the Shadow Thieves from within if given any more power. _

 

“Better that he die an honest man than live a lie and endanger us all.”

 

“Such thoughts are akin to mine,” he responded. “But I will hold you no closer knowing you are as cold as I. Instead, a simple test to test your worth and pad our coffers. I suppose I should make the task something you wouldn't balk at completely. How about a little petty larceny amidst the stuffed robes over at the Lathander temple? I require… the statue of Lathander kept inside the temple walls by the Dawnmaster Kreel. A beautiful thing, it is, but it will look even better on one of my shelves.”

 

Petty larceny, was it? Even at a temple, it shouldn't be too much trouble with two expert thieves at her disposal.

 

“You need not kill him to get it,” he continued. “The priest guards the whole temple at night, when there are less members of his order around. Just wait for him to lose sight of the statue and make it vanish. Now get moving! I’ve told you the mark, you do the rest. Do whatever you must to get that statue, but do not bother me again without the goods!”

 

Cat struggled to make a courtly nod.

 

“You will have it before dawn,” she promised.

 

It was clear that they could not attempt the theft during the day, so she decided to spend the rest of it enchanting the false dawn traps which were already being devised. After getting a sample of Hexxat's blood –she was about to go for a small cut on her palm, but the thief claimed she could do it herself and bit her own wrist–, she worked on the formula that would grant the vampire immunity to the traps that would soon be spread throughout the city. That task alone took her the remainder of the day, safe for an interruption she did not expect in the slightest.

 

She recognized the firm knock on her door. By then, she could tell him apart from anyone else with all of her senses. So of course, she raced to open the door for him with a wide smile that quickly faded when she saw the deep frown on his face.

 

“We must have some words,” Dorn said as he invited himself in, distant and blunt, nothing at all like that morning.

 

“What is troubling you?” She asked, raising a hand to caress his face, before he backed off. What was going on?

 

“Cat, I grow impatient. How long will we stumble around in circles, before you decide to manage some relevant business?” He gruffed, pacing around her lab, perhaps for emphasis.

 

_ Oh. _

 

“I see. Your patron does not approve, is that it?” Cat retorted, stone cold, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. It was the only possible explanation for such a sudden change in his demeanor.

 

“Stop feigning ignorance, you know very well what I mean!” He suddenly exploded, leaving her in shock for a moment at his outburst.

 

She quickly recovered, though. And she was  _ not pleased. _

 

“No, I have no idea where this is coming from,” she huffed, indignant at the unfair treatment she was receiving. After all of her hard work? And him, of all people, who knew how thin was the ice she treaded on; how much was at stake for her?  _ How much she was risking for his sake? _

 

“I’m warning you,” he growled, “reconsider your choices or I will reconsider the potential I thought I saw in you.”

 

_ What!? _

 

“I’m all out of divination spells today, Dorn, so you’re going to have to speak plainly,” Cat rebutted, rolling her eyes and pretending that his words hadn't affected her in any way.

 

“Enough of this pointless prattle!” He exclaimed, throwing an arm in the air in discontent. “Just leave me be.”

 

“Be my guest, you’re in  _ my  _ laboratory after all,” was Cat's icy reply.

 

He slammed the door shut. She stared at it for a while, wondering what the Hells just happened. Right until that moment, Dorn had been understanding that she needed to be careful about shedding blood, and so far he’d been contented to spar with Korgan or an uncloaked Hexxat, challenge the adventurers who came to the Copper Coronet to a fight to the death at the pit, or kill some noble or other while he accompanied Hexxat in her night hunts. So it had to be his patron, pressing him to bring him more souls. He had expressed his frustration at Ur-Gothoz’ growing hunger when they met again, so maybe it was beginning to get to him? If that was the case, she needed to make him realize the truth… but she knew it would be no easy task. Dorn could be terribly stubborn when it came to accepting help or having his beliefs challenged, but he couldn't keep living like that anymore.

 

It had been Cat's hope to grant him freedom as soon as she managed to ascend, but alas, her lover was not distinguished by his patience. She would have to search for another way. Working on traps to bring about a war in the city, investigating her torturer’s curse in the hope of getting the upper hand in the eventual fight, researching how to gain ascension, finding out a way to free a blackguard from his contract… it was beginning to be too much multitasking for her mangled mind. With a sigh, she left the lab and locked herself in her quarters, with the sole company of her pipe and a few threads of black lotus, and she waited for the night to come.

 

* * *

The Lathander temple had torches placed on the outside to illuminate every corner of it while on its wait for the sacred dawn to come. Still, both Yoshimo and Hexxat managed to sneak inside undetected. Cat and Dorn kept watch at the south entrance, while Korgan and Viconia guarded the east one. If a priest of the Morninglord entered the temple for whatever reason, they would yell a coded warning, and for that purpose they had left the doors slightly ajar. The witch had arranged the pairs on purpose so that she may have a chance to speak to Dorn about their recent argument. If he was hell bent into silence, she’d just have to force the words out of his mouth.

 

“Still sulking?”

 

Silence.

 

“I see. So you're still not telling me what’s going on, is that it?”

 

A silent glare.

 

“Oh, don’t you start now with that! Just this morning you were all over me and now suddenly I’ve offended you somehow? Why do I get the impression that there has been outer influence of some sort in your now most disagreeable attitude?”

 

A growl. Well, that was an improvement.

 

“Admit it. Say what the real problem is,” she pressed on, with a softer tone.

 

“Stop speaking of—”

 

He suddenly fell silent, eyes widened. Cat turned to look in the direction he was, and muttered a curse. A pair of Lathander priests. What in the Nine Hells were they doing up so early? Cat quickly turned back to Dorn and proceeded to shout out the code. She slapped him across the face.

 

“YOU LOUT! HOW DARE YOU CHEATING ON ME!”

 

*~*~*

 

Hexxat and Yoshimo heard Cat’s warning. They had been hiding in the shadows until the Dawnmaster moved on from the room where the statue was, and then checked the place for traps and snatched their trophy. Or rather, Mae’Var's. That was when they got the warning.

 

“We’ll have to move fast. East door,” Hexxat told Yoshimo, stuffing the gold bust inside her backpack.

 

He nodded, and they hurriedly left the room, taking to the right. That was when they heard Viconia's voice.

 

“YOU LOUT! HOW DARE YOU CHEATING ON ME!”

 

“Shit,” Hexxat hissed.

 

“The potions!” Yoshimo exclaimed as he uncorked a potion of invisibility.

 

Hexxat imitated him, and they stood with their backs to the wall, the exit door right in front of them. A priestess of Lathander appeared behind it, holding a morning star and a medium shield. She passed right by their side, and did not trip on them by a hair’s width. Still holding his breath, Yoshimo followed Hexxat outside, where they met Korgan and Viconia. The latter appeared relieved to see them well. The former was rubbing a hand on his sore cheek with a frown. Soon after, Cat and Dorn joined them.

 

“Let’s get Mae’Var his new toy,” Cat commanded before turning west to exit the district.

 

* * *

“Well, you’re back at last,” a still dismissive Mae’Var droned as he dragged a dagger down Lin’s arm, following his veins. Did that idiot have any idea of what he was doing, or was he purposely failing at the very basics of torture just to annoy Cat? “I’ll cancel the order to kill you then.”

 

Cat did not believe even for a second he had actually issued such an order so fast. Scare tactics and intimidation attempts had long since lost their effects on her, anyway.

 

“You have a few skills we might find useful after all. Now, let’s have a look at that statue.”

 

Cat nodded at Hexxat, who produced the item from her backpack and offered it to Mae’Var. His eyes widened when he felt the weight of the solid gold bust. He gave Hexxat an approving look.

 

“Well, you are strong. I can’t imagine the purpose of making such a heavy thing. I’ll file it with the other garbage sent to Calimshan. They like shiny stuff, I hear.”

 

He extended his arms with some difficulty and one of his workers promptly picked up the statue and left the basement with it. His eyes darted to Cat, hands on his hips, measuring her up. She silently waited, never breaking eye contact, secretly hoping he would find it offensive.

 

“Now, let's put you to some real work,” he spoke at last. “I haven't the time to piddle around with you, so my right-hand man will keep you busy until you can work for me personally. His name is Edwin.”

 

_ Edwin _ . It had to be a coincidence, right?

 

“Bloody good spellcaster, but he likes his luxuries. Usually happens to adventurers that hate the road.”

 

_ No way. No fucking way. _

 

“He’s on the third floor above us. Get going.”

 

Cat waited until she was out of Mae’Var's basement to break into laughter. Hexxat, Korgan and Yoshimo appeared surprised, but Dorn and Viconia knew very well what that was all about.

 

“The Hells… No matter what I do, I keep running into the same old acquaintances! I think I might just hug him,” she wiped a tear from her eye.

 

“Don’t,” Viconia frowned. “He is a pig and deserves to be punished for how he treated my  _ dalninuk _ .”

 

Right. During their journey to Dragonspear Castle, Edwin had maintained quite a torrid relationship with the drow sorcerer Baeloth. Torrid meaning that they could pass from slinging insults and threats at each other to passionate sex in their tents in a matter of minutes.

 

“Right, I forgot to ask. What happened to Baeloth after you two left me to my own devices when I was accused of murdering Skie?” Cat asked, casually pulling the jab at the priestess. Just because she understood their situation and forgave them for fleeing, it didn't mean she hadn't felt insulted at the time.

 

“Edwin insisted on investigating what truly happened that night,” Viconia explained, “but we  _ had  _ to hurry and take our leave, as your protection extended to us no longer. Baeloth begged him to come with us, only to be met with the longest stream of insults I have ever heard, and mind you, I was raised in the Underdark. He did not take it well to be called a coward and be told what happened between them had never been anything more than a casual fling. After we arrived here, we parted ways. He insisted on trying his luck again with those Black Pits of his… and I couldn't be bothered to get all the unwanted attention, so I wished him the best of luck and moved on with my life.”

 

“I see.” Someone was up for some teeth kicking, definitely. But the fact that he had stayed for her and felt outraged by the drow pair leaving her was kind of heartwarming, to be fair.

 

Just like Mae’Var described, the third floor was the most luxurious one. The skylight on the ceiling illuminated the vast room, along with rose-scented candles. The floor was covered in fine Calishite rugs, and the furniture was most definitely hardwood, walnut or hickory, Cat wasn't certain under the dim lighting. Even though it looked very much like only Edwin dwelled in there, for some reason there were three queen-sized beds resting against the nearest wall. The conjurer himself was sitting at an ample desk, paging through some documents.

 

“Greetings. I am Edwin Odesseiron. You simians may refer to me merely as 'Sir’, if you prefer a less… syllable intensive workout,” he drawled, not bothering to take his eyes off the papers he held.

 

“Edwin, are you wearing  _ pink _ ?”

 

The man jolted from his chair in a startle. He had recognized Cat’s voice. She chortled at his confused face.

 

“Cat, how—”

 

“I was snuck out, then kidnapped and tortured by a mad wizard, then escaped and found myself here,” she shrugged. “What are you doing in Amn, of all places?”

 

She was genuinely curious. For a Red Wizard of Thay, the rhabdophobic country was a death trap. Cat had joked about Edwin’s robes, mocking his offensive hatred for all things considered feminine by society –much like society itself did–, but he had good reason to wear a more washed out shade of his usual crimson in that place.

 

“I go wherever I please,” he huffed, nose up in pride. “(Not that I was kicked out of Dragonspear Castle before I could make any relevant progress on my investigation of what truly happened to the Silvershield brat or anything.)”

 

Cat beamed with happiness. She normally didn't respond to Edwin’s muttering, but finding out that he stayed for as long as he was allowed to try and figure out the truth was rather touching. Maybe deep down in that little black heart of his he  _ did  _ care about his comrades after all. To some degree. If they were beneficial to him.  _ Touching _ .

 

“Awww, you did that for me?” Cat clasped her hands together in joy. “Oh, you silly, let me hug you!”

 

“Get your filthy paws off me!” Edwin protested as he fruitlessly tried to get rid of Cat's grip.

 

It wasn't just a casual gesture or an spontaneous show of affection. As she held the wizard, Cat took a discreet glance back at her companions. At Dorn, more precisely. Yes, there were all the signs that he did not like her effusiveness one bit; clenched jaw, bared teeth, fists tightly close and a look that could kill.

 

_ Serves you right for being an asshole. _

 

She then let go of the surprisingly squishy mage, who looked daggers at her as he straightened his robes.

 

“I didn't stay for  _ your _ sake; there was a magical anomaly going on and I wished to study it,” Edwin excused himself. “The past hardly matters, anyway. I shall make this transaction as quick and bloodless as possible. Hear me. It seems my prowess as a mage has captured the eye of the Cowled Wizards.”

 

Cat tensed at the mention of the group. Were they behind Edwin? Just that same day she did everything in her power to avoid them, and now she was being dragged back to them?

 

_ Bullshit. _

 

“I’m certain they are envious,” Edwin proclaimed with his usual affected air of self-importance, “though their actions are no fitting tribute.”

 

_ Or rather, you’ve overdone yourself and are now hiding behind the Shadow Thieves’ skirts,  _ Cat thought, summoning all her willpower to not to roll her eyes. She had been discreet enough in her use of magic not to draw them onto her back; she was certain Edwin would have been more than able to do just the same if he hadn’t been so… Edwin.

 

“They have dispatched an agent to investigate my activities, something I don’t appreciate. This insult must be punished by killing the Cowled agent. Rayic Gethras is his name. His house is a gray three-story behind a fence along the westward wall of the Docks District. If he is home, his door will be open.”

 

He had really done his homework. At least he had been wise enough for that.

 

“When you find Rayic Gethras, kill him,” he instructed the group. “Question him beforehand if you like. Any insight into the Cowled Wizards is useful. A little torture would soften him.”

 

Cat smiled at his old companion.

 

“It’s like you’ve been reading my mind. Consider it done.”

 

“Good,” he nodded.

 

Viconia took a few steps forward, ready to speak to Edwin, but the wizard was faster.

 

“Don’t linger about then, get going! (Ugh, motivating these sloths is like pulling teeth.)”

 

Cat gently grabbed Viconia’s arm. She reluctantly left with the witch. As soon as they were out of the building, she turned to glower at it.

 

“I swear, I  _ would  _ enjoy pulling his teeth,” she snarled.

 

“There will be time for that later, I think,” Cat replied, amused by Viconia’s protectiveness of Baeloth and the lengths she was willing to go in order to avenge her kin’s hurt feelings. “For now, let’s just be done with this assignment. I’m going to enjoy torturing and killing one of those damned wizards.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The piece at the beginning is from Bell Under Water by Lotte Kestner. I'm really feeling this atmospheric, oneiric stuff lately.
> 
> I really hope you liked this first part of The mole. As always, feedback is deeply appreciated <3 Love you all, take good care!


	12. The mole, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat completes her missions for Mae'Var and Edwin, gains the latter's trust and finds a way to get rid of one of her piling problems. However, doing so will only leave her more troubled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING FINALLY I THOUGHT I WAS NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT I mean... hi again! Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm, now with 30% more torture, bullshit and angry half-orcs! Enjoy!

 

_ Just once in my life _

_ I think it'd be nice _

_ Just to lose control, just once _

_ With all the pretty flowers in the dust _

 

* * *

 

Following Edwin's indications, Cat was quick to find Rayic Gethras’ home. It was, indeed, more luxurious than most of the other houses at the docks, with a fence that led to a well cared for garden. Some vines crept up the outer walls of the house in oddly aesthetically pleasing patterns. Hexxat made way towards the entrance, and nodded at the group when she found the door unlocked. That was good. Cat had reckoned they would be more likely to find the wizard at home during the night, so she decided to get the task done before dawn, and report to Edwin the following day. She wasn't in a rush; she just wanted to enjoy the moment and take out some of her mounting rage on those who dared to take Imoen away from her.

 

As it was usual with mages, his house had a lovely reception consisting on a shit ton of mephits. Cat grew to hate them as she fought endless numbers of the little critters in Irenicus’ dungeon. She immediately threw a fear spell for immediate damage control while her companions drew their weapons and got ready to engage in yet another tedious game of cat and mouse, in which the mephits hit them with their breath of fire, ice, smoke or whatever –the blinding effects of the last one were especially annoying– and they, in turn, tried to reach them with their ranged weapons as the extraplanar imps made a flight for it. The situation, however, improved when Viconia casted a zone of sweet air spell –she had learn to have at least one of those ready after Quallo– so Dorn could impale the smoke mephit against the wall with a bolt. After that, it was just a matter of chasing the tiny fiends around and bringing them down, one by one. Cat couldn’t contain her laughter when her magic missiles tore through a fire mephit’s wings and sent it into a pool, not unlike the one in her private quarters, to drown.

 

There were lots of things one could learn about a stranger by peeping into their house. For instance, how paranoid or downright annoying they liked to be. Rayic Gethras pushed the standards of both. A stone golem.  _ A fucking stone golem _ in a room full of pottery, thin folding screens and beds –what the mage would need so many beds for, it was anybody’s guess–, glass vitrines,  _ a piano _ and other extremely delicate house decor. The Hells?

 

Anyway, it was not the time to dwell on the purpose of such a creature in such a place, but rather, to destroy it. Cat pulled her dagger with a sigh. Stupid magic resistant golems. Viconia and Dorn were the only ones who would be able to do some significant damage with their blunt weapons, but that didn’t mean Yoshimo, Hexxat and Korgan couldn’t accost the construct and give it a shot –their weapons were enchanted, so they wouldn’t break so easily, and Korgan’s brute force was most effective in cutting limbs off–, or that she couldn’t climb the creature’s back to stab its eyes and see what happened. Blindness and circuit damage. Goody. She leapt off it just in time to allow Dorn to bash the three heads of his flail against the golem’s, and it was done for. A fast victory. Nice.

 

Upstairs they found the wizard, who did not appear happy about the intrusion in his home. He also did not appear happy to have one of Cat’s throwing daggers tearing the tip of one of his pointed ears with a clean cut. His contingency protections fired up, but she and Viconia were quick to vanish them while the rest of the group did as much damage as they could with just their weapons.

 

“Remember, I only want him  _ mostly  _ dead!” Cat reminded her companions at the front line once she dispelled all of the mage’s protections.

 

A stab on the hand, courtesy of Hexxat, prevented Rayic Gethras from casting anything. Yoshimo went for a superficial, diagonal slash from his right arm to his left hip, which drew a lot of blood. Korgan cursed, pissed not to be able to deal lethal damage, and chopped one foot off. Dorn, on the other hand, preferred to go for his still intact arm, cutting it at elbow level.

 

“That’s enough!” Cat barked as she held the badly injured mage with a spell. It was her own improved long lasting formula that left the mouth, throat and vocal cords untouched. “Viconia, could you heal him a bit so he doesn’t bleed out too quick?”

 

“A waste of Shar’s blessings on a  _ Darthirii _ ,” the drow muttered, healing the terrified conjurer nonetheless.

 

“Viconiaaa… what did we say about racial slurs?” Cat glared at the priestess.

 

“It’s not a slur, it’s just how us  _ Ilithirii _ call surface elves,” she retorted.

 

“Ah, that's right,” Cat remembered. She really needed to pay more attention at her drow lessons, but her multitasking capabilities were at their limit. “Still, your tone wasn't exactly nice.”

 

“Sorry for feeling  _ a little  _ bitter about helping out one of those who most despise my kind,” Viconia muttered, still focused on stopping the elf's bleeding and closing his wounds.

 

“Who said you were helping him?” Cat whispered into the woman’s ear, her dagger ready.

 

“Hells, don’t do that!” Viconia jumped back, startled by Cat’s quick and stealthy approach.

 

“I’m getting better at this stuff,” the witch chuckled, unapologetic. “Now, let’s see what this guy knows.”

 

“You won’t make me speak!” The terrified elf blurted out. “Our numbers are many, and we will bring you down! I am completely devoted to the Cowled Wizards!”

 

However, his eyes said otherwise. He not only was a coward, but also a terrible liar. It was all in his eyes. She’d save them for last. First were his ears.

 

“How many exactly?” Cat hummed as she began to leisurely cut through flesh at the base, then feeling the unique snap of cartilage under her dagger. He howled in pain.

 

Even though they were at the docks, where such occurrences were not unusual in the slightest, Cat kindly asked Korgan to cover the wizard’s mouth with his gauntlet to muzzle his screams, until he stopped.

 

“Feeling more talkative now?” She smiled down at him.

 

“There's hundreds of us! We will chase you until–AUUUUGH!”

 

Cutting through cartilage was not, as some would think, a matter of strength like it happened with bones –and still, even someone as weak as her could do it with the right tools–; but rather, precision. Sticking with the pointy end didn't have any mystery, but knowing how to position said pointy end, how much pressure to apply, how to move the blade… now  _ that  _ was a completely different matter. In the present case, Cat wasn't in a rush, so she just sliced through like one would do a piece of meat. Come to think of it, butchers could make awfully good torturers with enough practice and the required anatomy studies.

 

“We had a confrontation with an extremely powerful wizard that decimated our ranks!” Rayic Gethras sobbed. “We are little more than thirty now, counting the Six!”

 

“Who are the Six? I want their names.”

 

Having access to the identities of the real authority in the city, and with some luck, a stray branch of a thieving guild to get Cat rid of their presence? She would be mad not to take such a chance. And even if she eventually had to do the dirty work by herself whenever she gathered enough power to defy them, she was certain it would be extremely enjoyable. What she was currently doing to the begging conjurer beneath her would be a loving caress compared to everything she would do to them.

 

Those who  _ dared  _ take Imoen away from her when the newly convert mage needed her the most.

 

“I-I don’t know, they communicate indirectly with the rest of us, via magic messages or summoned envoys and the like, so none of us have ever seen their faces!”

 

Cat squinted to take a better look at Gethras’ tearful eyes. He was telling the truth.  _ Fuck. _

 

“But it would be possible to track them with divining spells, true?” She asked, twisting the dagger a little bit to make sure he knew she wouldn't be moved by his tears.

 

“AH—I’m no diviner, b-but I guess it could be done, if you have a deathwish…”

 

“Oh? And how would you know that?” Cat asked, her eyes widened with curiosity, giving pause to the man’s torment.

 

“I-I can’t… If someone knows they’ll kill me AAAAHH GODS!”

 

There went his ear. Now, repetition did not ensure better results at interrogation, so Cat used the man’s robes to clean her dagger –the little show of vexation was just out of spite for everything that man stood for, not really her game otherwise– and sheathed it. Then, she took a tiny wooden box from one of the hidden pockets in her robes.

 

“Korgan, be a dear and take off his boot. You guys overdid it a bit with his limbs.”

 

Korgan was quick to oblige, excited to see what Cat would do next. It was the first time she tortured someone in front of anyone who wasn't Dorn –and that only happened because he was trying to sneak up on her,  _ mind you _ –, and the experience was a little unnerving. Mainly because most of her companions were experienced in such activities, and she was a bit nervous to receive negative criticism about her techniques. Which was kind of irrational, because she had learned from an extremely gifted torturer. Was that giddiness when sharing something so intimate what real friendship felt like?

 

“Before I continue, I just want to let you all know that I love you,” she sighed, smiling at her little band of murderous outcasts and deliberately avoiding Yoshimo, who had gone pale like chalk upon witnessing the grisly scene of the interrogation.

 

“You’re not going to kill us all in the process of whatever you’re doing next, are you?” Viconia asked, between humorous and unsure.

 

“Of course not!” Cat chuckled, opening the box to reveal dozens of silver needles with tiny pearls on their heads, for easier handling and an improved aesthetic. “I was just thinking of how fortunate I am to have such great friends!”

 

She took the first needle and carefully slid it under the mage's toenail, at a very slow pace. It was always important to be slow and delicate when it came to needles. He began to hyperventilate as more tears streamed down his face.

 

“Now, I can go on for hours, and you’d be surprised to know many places I can stick these in,” she tilted her head to the side with a sadistic grin. “After I’m done with your toes, perhaps you’d like to have your other ear pierced? Your nostrils? Or should we get right to the point and see how many I can fit into the opening of your urethra?”

 

“N-no! No, PLEASE!”

 

“Then tell me what you know about tracking the Cowled Wizards’ spells,” Cat requested. Intimidation was also an important part of the game, especially when playing with cowards. It was all about making them fear her more than their superiors.

 

Gethras swallowed.

 

“O-one of my colleagues wanted to reject a mission, so he tracked the dweomer of the wizard who assigned it to him… he was killed for it, and the rest of us were warned that we would suffer the same fate if we ever tried to invade their privacy… please, I’ve told you everything I know!”

 

He had.

 

“Ah, yes, thank you so much,” Cat’s smile broadened as she retrieved her dagger. “Enjoy the Nine Hells.”

 

“N—”

 

She had grown tired of questioning the man. Slicing someone’s throat was a silent way to kill, but piercing the carotid artery was much faster, and it didn’t allow for much speaking, either. The elf choked on his own blood, eyes wide as saucers. Cat did not stop watching until it was over. She then used a handkerchief to clean her dagger.

 

“Let’s go tell Edwin the good news,” she ordered, after taking a signet from his severed hand –by having Hexxat cut off the entire finger– which would prove the deed had been done.

 

* * *

Edwin made a poor job of hiding his relief over not having a Cowled Wizard on his neck anymore, but he was pleased with the information Cat had extracted from him. She didn’t mind sharing; earning the weakened tyrants more enemies was nothing if not good news for her.

 

“I’ve another mission for you,” Edwin announced, “one that does not necessarily involve any bloodshed at all.”

 

“Aw, really?” Cat pouted. “Edwin, you’re disappointing me.”

 

“Just listen to what I have to say!” He shot back in anger. He really hated being interrupted. Cat really didn’t care. “This task is the simple retrieval of some crucial documents, and you must be as discreet as possible. (As if these club-footed fools will manage).”

 

That time, Cat decided to ignore the conjurer’s side comments.

 

“Where shall we find them?”

 

“On a merchant named Marcus,” Edwin replied. “He may be found at the Sea’s Bounty. Retrieve the documents in any manner that you wish. I would suggest using guile (but such subtle means are beyond these monkeys, I am sure.)”

 

The Sea’s Bounty was the typical coastal tavern where sailors seeked for their usual poison and company. It smelled of sea salt and liquor, a scent that Cat found surprisingly pleasing. The wooden planks of the floor and stairs, as well as the tankards the patrons drank from, were somehow covered in lime, and a shady bartender barked orders at a voluptuous servant who didn’t hesitate to flirt with the customers for tips. Amongst the mix of shady personages, a merchant in fine clothing stood out like a sore thumb, helping himself to fresh-caught crabs. Cat turned to her companions. They looked tired from all the aimless walking around. Edwin could wait; his documents weren’t going anywhere.

 

“Pick a table and serve yourselves to whatever you please, I’ll handle this,” she told them.

 

Then she ran her fingers through her hair, trying in vain to smooth it and giving up when they became entangled. From one of her pockets, she used a tiny round mirror to check the state of her face. Luckily, there were no bloodstains in it, but her tiredness showed. From the same pocket, she found her signature red lipstick and applied it to brighten her visage. Once satisfied with her looks, she walked right to where Marcus dined and took a seat beside him.

 

“Well met,” she greeted him with her best fake smile. “Marcus, I believe?”

 

He didn’t even looked at her.

 

“Stop bothering me, I’ve important business to conduct,” he gruffed before sucking on one of the crab’s legs.

 

Cat ran a hand up the man’s forearm, definitely capturing his attention that time.

 

“You have some documents I wish to… purchase,” she spoke in a lower, huskier voice. Marcus’ eyes widened, and he withdrew the arm she was caressing as if Cat were a flame. It was all she could do not to laugh at his flushed face.

 

“Hmmm. Perhaps…” Still he tried to resist. The man was a merchant at heart. “I might be able to part with them. Providing you pay me more than I’m making with this deal. Two hundred and fifty gold ought to cover it, eh?”

 

No, Cat was  _ not  _ willing to pay any money for Edwin’s fool’s errands. Instead, she dragged her foot up Marcus’ leg, prompting a loud gasp from him. She leaned closer to him, smirking and bending slightly so he got a perfect view of her cleavage. She had got what she wanted so many times from such simple acting that it already came naturally to her by that point.

 

“Oh? Are you sure a lovely man like you wouldn’t… do a woman like me a little favor, hmmm?”

 

Marcus gulped. His face was such a deep shade of crimson that Cat wondered if she had actually got him sick.

 

“Ah… er, certainly…”

 

He slid off his seat to retrieve a briefcase that he handed to Cat. She opened it and saw that, indeed, it was filled with all sorts of papers she didn’t bother to look through.

 

“A pleasure making business with you,” she nodded at him before leaving for her companions’ table to tell them of her exploits.

 

However, Korgan’s sly sneer, Viconia’s look of approval and Dorn’s death glare confirmed that they had all been watching her. She ignored the latter. If he wanted to stay mad at her and not tell her the reason but still get jealous despite her lack of genuine interest in anyone who wasn't  _ him _ , then she would not make it her problem.

 

“Well, how about we crash here and give Edwin his precious documents tomorrow?” She suggested.

 

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Korgan grinned, “the ale here’s delicious.”

 

*~*~*

 

Viconia and Hexxat walked together towards their respective suites –a low ranking tavern like that being able to afford such luxuries was proof of the shady businesses likely conducted in the place. The vampire had been most agreeable company as of late; a good converser, if a bit reserved, but then again, everyone had secrets. However, Viconia would be a fool to believe their recent increase in interactions was just because of Hexxat's will to befriend her.

 

Speaking of which…

 

“You carry yourself well, Viconia,” she commented.

 

“I have to,” she replied, terse.

 

“A woman must work doubly hard to prove herself in this world,” Hexxat reflected.

 

“And a drow triply so,” Viconia let out a bitter chuckle. At least she couldn't say she didn't relate to her to some degree, her literal thirst for blood notwithstanding.

 

Hexxat gave her a warm smile that would have seemed  _ just  _ friendly, hadn't Viconia known otherwise.

 

“But you do so, with grace and poise.”

 

Oh, well. Compliments. That would be an interesting game to play.

 

“You don’t do so badly yourself,” Viconia returned the smile.

 

“When it comes to battle, my skills are passable,” Hexxat stretched like a cat. Viconia caught the clue and stared, pleased with the view offered so generously to her. “There are other places where I positively excel.”

 

Then, she turned to Viconia with a smirk.

 

“Perhaps I could show you some time.”

 

“What are you suggesting, precisely…?” Viconia asked, raising an eyebrow and feigning ignorance.

 

Hexxat's smile turned predatory. Oh, that was looking good.

 

“Sometimes a woman needs the company of another woman,” Hexxat's cold fingers prompted a shocked gasp from Viconia when they caressed her cheeks. “The feel of another woman's flesh upon her own…”

 

Somehow, Hexxat had closed the distance between them without Viconia even noticing, and was now leaning her body against the drow's, her face inches apart. Those full lips sure looked tempting…

 

“Is that clear enough for you?” Hexxat whispered, her brown eyes locked in Viconia's.

 

Drawing a sharp breath, the priestess took a step back. No, she would not make it so easy for the thief. She gave her a scornful look.

 

“It is a shame your flesh is so cold, or for a moment, I might have been tempted,” she lied.

 

The priestess was pleased to find that Hexxat wasn't easily discouraged.

 

“Consider the possibilities, Viconia. You’d have no regrets come the morning. I promise you.”

 

“I have heard such promises before,” Viconia dismissed her wooer. “None have proved accurate.”

 

“As you wish,” Hexxat nodded. “If you change your mind, you need only ask.”

 

As she was turning to leave, Viconia grabbed her hand and pulled her close, taking her by surprise. She could have easily get rid of the drow's weak grip on her, yet she just allowed Viconia to drag her into her room.

 

“Who said I wished you gone?” She smirked at the surprised vampire. “You promised me an unforgettable night. You’d better make good on that promise.”

 

Hexxat returned the smirk.

 

“I will show you, then,” she breathed against Viconia's lips before kissing them with passion. She had to admit the thief was good at that.

 

If Viconia was to be completely honest with herself, the coldness of Hexxat's fingers as they deftly unlatched the bracers of her armor and slipped underneath her robes to feel her much warmer skin wasn't as unpleasant as she had claimed it was. When she felt it on one of her nipples, though, she was brought back to the real world. That damned woman had disrobed her faster than she could blink, and she just stood there, paralyzed by her sensuous touch. In the Underdark, Viconia's sex life had consisted on dominating her husbands and sex slaves –something that, looking back, ashamed her like so many other traditions of her race–, and her approaches to it in the surface had been most disagreeable. But then again, it was true that she had never tried with a woman. However, she would not allow herself to be seen as some sort of flushed maiden. No, she would show Hexxat a  _ real  _ woman. So she grabbed her hair and pulled her into a deep kiss, revelling in the feel of the vampire’s fangs grazing her tongue as she undid the ties and straps in Hexxat’s leather armor. Once the vampire shrugged off her protection, Viconia went for the simple black clothes she wore underneath, slipping her hands under her shirt to slowly raise it as she felt the well-toned body and the freezing, yet smooth skin underneath. Hexxat purred and gave Viconia’s earlobe a playful bite.

 

“Watch yourself!” Viconia hissed as she backed off, scanning the room to find the holy symbol of her goddess.

 

To her surprise, Hexxat just chuckled.

 

“Easy, my bites are not necessarily lethal,” she said. It did little to reassure Viconia, and she seemed to notice. “I won’t do it again if you disliked it.”

 

“I didn’t… dislike it,” Viconia admitted with a huff, finally relaxing. “I just don’t want to be turned into a  _ sanguine _ , sunlight’s already bad enough for me as it is.”

 

“Turning someone is not that simple,” Hexxat explained. “There has to be a blood exchange, voluntary or not. So unless you want  _ my  _ blood, you have nothing to fear.”

 

“That is for me to decide,” Viconia retorted, just to show she wasn’t going to fall in her arms like some helpless virgin. She was too used to be in charge to let go of the habit. “Now come so I can finish stripping you.”

 

With an ear-to-ear grin that showed her sharp fangs, Hexxat obliged. She appeared happy to let Viconia do as she wished. Soon, her black leggings and underwear were down to her ankles, and she slipped off them with her usual grace. Viconia took that chance to tackle the other woman and push her into her bed as she crept on top. After a few more heated kisses and some groping on both women's part –Viconia wondered how the Hells Hexxat could be so cold and yet so soft at the same time–, the priestess proceeded to explore the rogue’s body with her tongue, as she had done with males so many times before. It was one of her favorite parts about sex; unravelling the mysteries of the other’s body, which parts were more sensitive, which were more pleasant to the touch, which tasted better… Doing so to a woman was an extremely pleasant novelty, and so far Hexxat seemed contented with the received attention, if her low humming was any indicator. She played with her breasts as she did with her own when masturbating; twisting the nipples between two fingers and running her hands along them to pretend it was someone else doing it to her. Then she thought of what she enjoyed the most in that particular area, and took a nipple into her mouth to twirl her tongue around it, quickly lapping on it to then switch back to her fingers to play with the now moist breasts. Hexxat now sighed in delight, but did nothing to reciprocate the attention. Viconia raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Are you just going to lie there and do nothing?”

 

There was playful mockery in the vampire's smile.

 

“I just wanted to see what you are capable of first,” she replied, running a finger along Viconia's sensitive ear, making her breath hitch despite her attempts to be unimpressionable. “And you seemed to be enjoying yourself, so I didn't want to interrupt.”

 

“Then I’ll keep going, but I expect my due reciprocation when I’m done with you,” Viconia drawled as she leaned back down to pick up where she had left off.

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get—ohhh!”

 

Viconia couldn't help but smirking in triumph. Ah, the sternum. An often forgotten area which could draw so many sighs when given the due attention. She then raked her nails down Hexxat's sides as her tongue continued to travel downwards, swirling around her navel. Despite her lean appearance, the vampire's flesh was firm, a testament of her inhuman strength… which Viconia was rather curious about, but that particular matter could wait… Especially now that she had reached the area she was most interested in.

 

“I didn't expect you to be that much of a tease,” Hexxat sighed, her voice trembling slightly, as Viconia delicately ran her fingers up her legs, from the calves to the thighs which she was now sucking on at a deliberately slow pace, making her way to the other woman's core.

 

“Sex with no teasing is just too boring,” Viconia chuckled, tracing Hexxat's labia with a finger. There was it; the moan she had been waiting for.

 

“Don’t leave me waiting for too long, or I might get reckless,” Hexxat jokingly warned, spreading her legs further for the drow. Or at least  _ she sounded  _ jestful.

 

“Oh? And what will you do?” Viconia asked, smiling in a silent challenge as she drew her face closer to the thief's core.

 

“Now, it wouldn't be fun to spoil such a surprise,” Hexxat purred as she treaded her fingers in Viconia’s silky silver locks. 

 

The priestess could see the want in those half-lidded brown eyes, but Hexxat did not pressure her, as she had promised not to do. Part of her was annoyed at her inability to drive the woman to frustration and outwardly expressed desperation, but another part was deeply intrigued by her well-kept composure, even grateful. Males had a tendency to try and get rough when she worked them up like that, but it appeared it might not be the case with a woman, or at least  _ that  _ particular one. Interesting, indeed.

 

Scoffing to pretend Hexxat’s words didn’t spark something inside her, Viconia proceeded to trace the shape of her sex with her tongue, prompting a much louder moan from the vampire and the involuntary buckling of her hips against her. With a smirk, the drow lapped at her entrance while she used a single finger to tease her clit, making Hexxat thrash her legs in spastic motions and gasp at the raw pleasure she was receiving. After a while, she switched positions and circled the vampire’s clit with her tongue while she leisurely fucked her with one finger. Hexxat grew desperate, her voice much louder as she grabbed fistfuls of Viconia’s hair. The priestess smiled against her sex. The poor woman didn’t know what to do with herself anymore. Feeling somewhat merciful, she bent her finger with a practiced twist to find her lover’s g-spot, which she relentlessly caressed as she used just the tip of her tongue to build pressure against Hexxat’s clit, bringing her to call out Viconia’s name as she reached her peak. Removing herself from between the woman’s legs, the drow paused to admire Hexxat’s body once more, now glistening with sweat, and then planted a forceful kiss on her full lips, parting them to allow her tongue in so the thief would get a taste of herself.

 

“Your turn,” Viconia whispered against her lips. “You’d better make it worth all this effort.”

 

Still trying to regain her breath, Hexxat sat up and eyed Viconia with an intensity she had rarely seen in a lover before.

 

“Come,” she managed to say, gesturing her lap.

 

Wondering what she was up to, Viconia obliged and sat with her back facing Hexxat. She stifled a gasp when she felt her cold fingers getting her hair out of the way, so she had better access to her neck.

 

“Remember; no biting,” Viconia commanded, a little unsure of the vampire's intentions.

 

Hexxat leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

 

“I won't need to.”

 

For Shar, even her breath was cold. And yet right then it felt more refreshing than bone-chilling as Viconia had expected. Hexxat circled her waist with her hands and pulled herself closer. Taking a stray strand of hair, she inhaled deeply into it, humming in pleasure.

 

“Your scent… it’s intoxicating,” she murmured in her ear, right before tracing its length with her tongue. Viconia cursed herself for shuddering in delight; that damned woman definitely knew what she was doing.

 

Then, Hexxat pressed her lips to the side of her neck, inhaling deeply once more. Viconia felt the grip on her waist tighten just a little bit; she could tell she was struggling for control, and for a moment, the drow felt a little apprehensive. That woman could easily snap her in half, or just guide herself by smell to find an artery to bite into. Which was precisely what she was doing, safe for the biting part. Hexxat expertly used her lips and tongue to suck, kiss and lick down Viconia's neck without resourcing to her teeth a single time. It took a good amount of skill, she had to give her that.

 

Instead, she chose to complain.

 

“Don’t leave any marks,” she grumbled, straining to keep her voice from faltering. “I’m not Cat; I don't need everyone to see I got laid.”

 

Hexxat chuckled against the delicate skin of her neck.

 

“Worry not, I’ll treat you with care,” she replied before continuing her ministrations, the sucking now a bit softer.

 

That was when one of her hands crept up to cup one of Viconia's breast. That time, she was unable to repress a gasp at the feeling; those hands were so, so soft… and now there was one twisting her nipple as Hexxat's mouth found the crease between her neck and shoulder, trapping the skin between lips and tongue. That time, Viconia actually moaned.

 

“That’s the reaction I wanted,” Hexxat said in a husky hush, moving her other hand to give Viconia's other breast the same attention. “Move forward a bit, I want more of that.”

 

Wondering what she was up to, Viconia obliged. Now she couldn't decide whether it was Hexxat's hands or mouth that were more skilled. Removing her left hand from her breast, she guided the drow's arm up and tilted her head to drag her tongue up her axila in a slow pace that had Viconia writhing.

 

“Most people are wary of tending to this area,” Hexxat explained after planting a wet kiss at the skin that connected Viconia's axila to her breast, “but it is most pleasing to those receiving the attention.”

 

“You are not wrong,” Viconia conceded with a sigh as Hexxat made the drow’s arm turn in a delicate twist, so it was extended outwards with her palm facing up.

 

The next Viconia felt was that blessed tongue on her elbow pit, which made her jump up a little. Hexxat's right hand was now caressing the skin of her torso as it slowly travelled south, and the priestess couldn't help but feeling giddy at the thought of her fingers right where she wanted them the most. Before she could dwell any further on the tempting thought, Hexxat had made her bend her elbow down so she had easy access to… her wrist?

 

A louder moan escaped Viconia's lips as Hexxat relentlessly attacked her wrist with quick swirls of her tongue. She never would have guessed such a simple act would feel that amazing, and yet there she was, undone by the touch of another woman. Perhaps that was why her sex life hadn't been as satisfactory as she had hoped until then? Whichever the answer, she could now feel Hexxat tracing the curvature of her hairless pube, and she reflectively opened her legs wider for the woman. Unlike herself, Hexxat was not one to prolong things or tease, or perhaps she was just too eager, judging by the frantic circles she drew on Viconia’s clit with her fingers as her lips went back to kiss up and down her neck and ears, and her free hand latched itself to one of her breasts to pinch the nipples between two fingers. Viconia buckled her hips against those impossibly quick fingers, gasping for air and desperate to feel more.

 

“You mouth,” she moaned. “I want it down there.”

 

Hexxat’s cool breath in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

 

“Maybe some other time,” she replied with malice. “For now I want to show you what I can achieve with just my fingers.”

 

And oh, by the Goddess, was it worth it. Viconia’s moans went louder and louder; she no longer cared about keeping her haughty façace or being heard by the occupants of other rooms, as her mind and body could only focus on the mind-blowing orgasm Hexxat gave her just with her fingers, which left the priestess trembling and the sheets underneath her damp. Hexxat allowed her to support her full weight on her deceivingly lithe frame and held her by the waist.

 

“Well? Still thinking I’m a disappointment?” She asked, cocky.

 

Panting, Viconia reached up to her, cupping her face in her hand, and graced her with a passionate kiss that she reserved only for her most gifted lovers.

 

“Next time, you’d better show me what you can do with that mouth of yours,” she smirked back at the vampire before removing herself from her cold arms in order to search for her discarded clothes.

 

“You’re not staying the night? How cold,” Hexxat joked, tilting her head to the side.

 

As Viconia began to get dressed, she smirked at her lover.

 

“Serves you right for not giving me what I want.”

* * *

The next morning, Cat startled Edwin out of his studies by shoving his precious documents on his desk in anger. She had spent the night alone, as Dorn had shut off completely and refused to speak to her. The whole “lovers’ quarrel” situation was as new to her as it was annoying, it only fueled her anger, and she wanted none of that. Hearing Hexxat and Viconia from the former's room hadn't helped, either. And then, there was the issue of Korgan's side job. It turned out he got word on the tavern that the Cowled Wizards were seeking for someone to help them access the planar sphere. Sure, it was an opportunity to snatch it right under their noses, but Cat did not wish for a confrontation right then. She already had her hands full with Mae’Var, to whom Edwin now directed her, stating that he deemed her ready to work for him. Down to the basement she went, barely conscious of the presence of her companions, yet as hyper-aware of her surroundings, of the slightest change in them, as it became usual for her after Irenicus tweaked her brain.

 

Lin was still lying on the table, but he looked pretty much dead. Mae’Var was glaring at his body, sustaining a bloody knife in his right hand. He smiled when he saw the group coming.

 

“Edwin has been telling me that you are, at the very least, competent. Fairly good at the sneaksman trade, but a little ham-fisted when you fight. Exactly what I’m looking for. I’ve a special task for you. You do this for me and you’ll be set within the guild for whatever you need. Don’t think it will be easy though. There is a… SHHHHHH!”

 

Cat raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with Mae’Var's dramatism as he placed his index finger on his lips, as if shushing a child. Then, he motioned for the group to come closer and began to speak in whispers.

 

“There is a TRAITOR amongst us! Yes, one who has abused the trust we have given him! He must be dealt with in a permanent fashion. Embarl is his name, and you are to kill him with prejudice. You will find him in the Sea’s Bounty, hiding like the coward he is. Bring me his dagger to show you have done the deed.”

 

That man was utterly stupid. His dagger? It could be pickpocketed, purchased, or better yet; Cat could simply convince the man to hand it to her. There was no way that could count as a consistent proof. Scalps  _ and  _ eyeballs;  _ that  _ was the real deal –provided that the murderer knew the proper conservation techniques for eyeballs, of course.

 

Oh, well, she would show  _ him  _ drama.

 

“He will not outlive the day, of this I swear!” Cat exclaimed, closing her fist for emphasis.

 

The fool fell for it. Completely.

 

“Good! That's the spirit I like to see! Show him what it means to be a Shadow Thief, and I’ll have your reward here for you when you get back. Off with you!”

 

A reward. At last. Cat nodded at her group so they would follow, and headed back to the Sea’s Bounty. She didn't think she had seen that Embarl the night before, so she'd try the upper floor’s rooms. Only one of them was occupied, and the door was locked. Hexxat quickly solved the issue, and the group found a cowering man, shaking like a leaf.

 

“You… you’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” He stuttered. “Please! Tell Mae’Var it was all a misunderstanding!”

 

Then, Cat saw the opportunity. Maybe that supposed traitor knew something about Mae’Var's intentions to overthrow Bloodscalp.

 

“What misunderstanding? What are you talking about?”

 

“I didn't mean to… I overheard Mae’Var talking to some of the other guildmembers about killing Renal Bloodscalp!” Embarl sobbed. “I cried out in shock and Mae’Var heard me! I’m as good as dead, I know it! Please don’t kill me though… I’ve been faithful to the Shadow Thieves! I never wanted to get mixed up in this!”

 

To be honest, Cat was sorely tempted to end the man’s life right then and there if only to stop his pathetic begging. But why do that, when she could raise some Hells in the whole city instead? An united guild would be a stronger guild; one that could perhaps dare to openly face the vampire guild if they believed they could defeat them… or if the vampires felt threatened by the false dawn traps and began an open offensive, instead of just fighting or turning a few thieves in dark alleys at night.

 

“Do you have proof of this?”

 

Embarl shook his head with energy.

 

“No. I only know what I overheard Mae'Var saying. The fact that he knows I heard him means Mae’Var will hunt me until I am dead!”

 

It was decided, then.

 

“I’ve no desire to kill you, Embarl,” Cat told him sweetly. “Give me the dagger, to prove to Mae’Var that the deed is done, and go to Renal Bloodscalp to tell him everything you’ve heard. Say the Lady sent you and that her investigation is soon to bear fruit, and I’ve no doubt he will protect you.”

 

“You… the Lady… you would do this?” He gasped. “It is truly as they say, there is no end to your kindness! Here is my dagger. I shall go to Renal's guildhouse immediately! Thank you so much!”

 

With that, Embarl rushed out of the room. Cat examined the dagger and found no marks of any type that identified its previous owner. It was just a plain, regular dagger. Cat wondered how Mae’Var managed to survive managing a guildhouse for so long; it was easy to see that his scare tactics were mere façade, and even despite his violent tendencies, anyone who was cunning enough could easily get him out of the way. Like she was going to do, she guessed.

 

Back at Mae’Var’s basement, she was treated to yet more of his charming, despective behavior.

 

“The traitor is dead, I trust? Yes, you have his dagger. Despite your useless appearance you have done well. Now go. I have matters to attend to that are above you.”

 

_ I could say the same thing. _

 

“You have been an useful tool, and you may be one again,” Mae’Var continued, narrowing his eyes and taking the dagger. “Don’t think you are more than that; I will have a thousand thieves, all doing my bidding just as you are. Go now, tool, and leave the thinkers to their thinking. Talk to Edwin, he might have something for you to do.”

 

So it had all been for nothing. How long was she supposed to keep pretending to work for that fool before an opportunity showed itself?

 

It turned out it wouldn’t be so long after all.

 

“Well, you have surpassed the exceedingly low expectations I had of you. You now have the trust of Mae’Var securely in hand, and have proven your competence to me once more (though just barely—HEY!”

 

“Listen, Edwin,” Cat struggled to keep her voice level as she grabbed the conjurer by the collar and clenched her right fist, strengthened with a vampiric touch, mere inches from his face, “I’m having an incredibly shitty day and I’m really not in the mood for both yours and Mae’Var’s condescendence. Do you have anything important to say to me, or will I have to keep stumbling about this wretched shack without even so much as a reward?”

 

“Alright, alright, calm down!” Edwin raised his arms defensively. “(I swear, this woman is crazier each time I meet her).”

 

After straightening the collar of his robe, he began again.

 

“Now that I’m assured of your loyalty to the cause of the moment, it seems an appropriate juncture to dispense with false pretenses,” he huffed, still in shock from Cat’s attack. “Your pretense of naivete and wilderness manners is clever, but a Red Wizard sees more than mere appearance. You have a secret, Cat.”

 

If he had meant to sound intimidating, he had failed spectacularly. They had known each other for long enough for her to know he wouldn’t turn against her unless it proved beneficial to him, and she was certain it didn’t. She chortled.

 

“Only one? Your skills are disappointing, Edwin.”

 

“Can we please focus on the matter at hand?” The conjurer said through gritted teeth. “As it happens, I know where we can find damning evidence of Mae’Var’s betrayal of Renal Bloodscalp. That is your purpose here, isn’t it? (Yes, I thought so.)”

 

_ Finally. Fucking finally. _

 

“Edwin, right now I love you more than anything else in the world. Except for kittens,” Cat sighed in relief. At last, she could get rid of that damned fool and stop surrounding herself with idiots. She was beginning to worry that it might be contagious.

 

“Whatever,” Edwin muttered, rolling his eyes. “Mae’Var has been courting the Night Masks in order to bolster his own strategic position and betray Renal. Masterfully planned, but I have seen through it.”

 

“Has he really planned that on his own? I mean, he is an idiot and an utterly incompetent leader. The only reason his thieves follow him is out of fear, and he’s not even that intimidating,” Cat commented, happy to be able to criticize Mae’Var freely.

 

“Don’t be fooled by his numerous missteps; that man is a planner and a strategist,” Edwin replied. “He just, as you would say, ‘sucks’ at implementing them. Now, where was I? Ah, yes! The Masks are a cutthroat guild of footpads, brigands and highwaymen based in the congested cesspool of Westgate. Obviously they wish to expand. Mae’Var is fully aware of the penalty if the Shadow Thieves learn of his plan. It would be disastrous, both for his ambitions and his continued breathing. You’ll find the proof you require in Mae’Var’s quarters. I conveniently have a key that opens his strongbox. I plan to be on the winning side in this affair…” He grinned. “And something tells me that neither Bloodscalp nor Mae’Var are. Not with you involved.”

 

Cat returned the smile.

 

“Welcome back, my friend.”

 

* * *

It was done. The incriminating documents were finally in Cat’s hands. She paged through them; it was correspondence between Mae’Var and the Night Masks, along with a letter he had yet to finish and send. That gave Cat an idea which could solve one of her current problems. She took a piece of blank parchment from Mae’Var’s desk and began to write. One of her many duties as a scholar in Candlekeep was copying damaged originals to ensure their contents’ survival to the test of time. That made her extremely proficient in copying others’ calligraphies, and even signatures. More than once had she put that particular skill into practice just to cause some havoc in the keep, pitting monk against monk for the sake of her entertainment. It was her petty way of rebelling against her captivity. Once she was done, she rolled the parchment –blessed be fast drying ink–, hid it in her scroll case and reunited with her companions, who were ready to go.

 

“Let’s go meet Renal Bloodscalp, then.”

 

Back at the main Shadow Thieves’ guild, Bloodscalp received Cat’s group, along with a much relieved Embarl.

 

“Ah, dear Lady!” Bloodscalp greeted Cat, jovial, and shook her hand with enthusiasm. “I was just counting some loot from a delightful outing we had not long ago and I thought of you. Mask help me if I didn’t smile just a little! You won’t make that smile disappear, will you? You’ve brought news, perhaps? You’ve brought some evidence of Mae’Var’s foulness? Do tell, my Lady.”

 

“I am not  _ your  _ lady,” Cat droned in response, crossing her arms. Hells, she was dying to be done with all that stupidity.

 

“Right, your thing’s the slums, and let’s hope you keep it that way,” the thinly veiled threat hung in the air for a moment, but Cat ignored it. She was above that man’s petty scheming, and soon, he’d be too busy literally getting vampires out of his neck to worry about any competition. “Now, I believe I have asked you a question.”

 

Cat sighed in annoyance.

 

“Yes, I have the evidence you need in these writings. It seems that Mae’Var has been making overtures to the Night Masks.”

 

That appeared to catch Bloodscalp off guard.

 

“Is that so?” He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Hmmm. Now, that is unexpected. Fortunately, it’s more than enough to damn Mae’Var completely. I thank you, Lady, for providing this. Only the last part of our deal remains to be carried out. Go and eliminate Mae’Var then, with my full authority. Do that and this business shall be finished, finally.”

 

“Very well,” Cat forced herself to smile. Just that one small task that she was going to thoroughly enjoy and they’d finally be done. “I’ll go and eliminate the scum for you and return.”

 

Bloodscalp patted her back.

 

“That’s a good sport!”

 

“Stop touching me or you’ll lose a hand.”

 

The thief let out a hearty laugh. Cat wondered if he thought she was joking.

 

“Ah, that fire! That’s the Cat I heard about! Don’t worry, once this is done, your secret will be safe!”

 

Cat harrumphed as she made her way back to Mae’Var’s guildhouse. Edwin trotted to keep up to her rapid, furious pace.

 

“What was that he was talking about? You are the Lady of the Slums?”

 

“Yes, and you’d better lower your voice,” she retorted, “she doesn’t have many friends at the docks.”

 

“No wonder. You have been practically ruining their business,” Edwin snickered. “I knew I was getting myself on the winning side.”

 

“Oh, you have no idea.”

 

Cat herself had no idea that an ambush would be awaiting them as soon as they entered Mae’Var’s hall. The group quickly dispatched the thieves, aided by Viconia’s spells to purge invisibility, and fought their way to the basement. Mae’Var must have gone to his strongbox, probably to send the letter he had been in the middle of writing, and found it empty. With Edwin and Cat’s absence, he surely put two and two together for once in his life.

 

“So you come back,” he roared as Cat charged downstairs into his basement. “You are a fool to defy me.”

 

“The only fool here is you!” Cat shouted as she released a fireball.

 

Some of Mae’Var’s thieves were instantly scorched to death, as well as his unfortunate new prisoner.  _ Oops. _

 

Mae’Var was cursing and trying to put out the flames as a priest of Cyric healed his wounds. Edwin summoned a pack of hobgoblins who promptly attacked the priest, while Hexxat and Yoshimo hid in shadows to get closer to Mae’Var discreetly. Viconia watched out for any thief quaffing a potion, in order to dispel their pesky invisibility. Dorn and Korgan charged with wild roars, clashing with the thieves who had been spared the most from the fire. However, the frail cutpurses were no rivals for the sheer strength and brutality of those two men’s slashes. Soon, the floor was spilled with guts, blood and body parts. In the meantime, Cat and Edwin sent a coordinated magic missile attack to bring down the cleric before he could put anyone under a spell.

 

“No!” Mae’Var screamed when the priest fell. “You won’t defeat me! You won’t—”

 

Unfortunately, Cat never knew what else she supposedly wouldn’t do, because the guildmaster was backstabbed by both Yoshimo and Hexxat, their blades sticking out from his chest. He coughed up blood, and when they pulled back their weapons, he fell to the floor, dead. Dorn decapitated him, as Cat instructed it should be done, and made his way back to where the mages waited. There were still some thieves alive, though.

 

“Everyone, follow me!” Cat shouted. “I have a plan!”

 

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” Viconia snorted as she followed.

 

Of course, the thieves gave chase. Just what Cat wanted. As they raced up the stairs, they were met with reinforcements from the upper floor. Everything went according to plan.

 

“Hexxat, Dorn! Use the barrels of ale to block the back door!” Cat commanded.

 

The two strongest members of her group lifted the barrels as if they weighed nothing and quickly placed them resting against the door, effectively blocking it while Edwin and Cat used hopelessness and fear spells to keep the thieves in check; and Viconia, Yoshimo and Korgan fended off the ones who managed to evade the foul effects of the mages’ spells and get close to them.

 

“I have a key to the side and main exit!” Edwin warned Cat, handing her a key-chain.

 

“Yoshimo, the side door!” She directed, tossing him the key-chain.

 

The thief dashed to the side entrance, pausing every now and then to engage an enemy, focusing on avoiding their attacks and dealing quick damage before moving on, not bothering to finish off his rivals. He quickly locked the door and put his thumbs up to tell Cat the job had been done.

 

“Perfect! Now everybody go, quick!”

 

“What about ye, Kitty?” Korgan asked as he swung his axe, almost chopping a thief in half.

 

“I’ve got this covered! Yoshimo, hand me the keys!”

 

The bounty hunter obliged, and followed the rest of his companions as Cat concentrated. The thieves were about to fall on her. She saw knives everywhere…

 

“A goodbye present!” She giggled as she released a cloudkill and then casted an invisibility spell on herself.

 

The witch locked the door shut behind her, leaving the remaining thieves to die from the extremely poisonous gas. She toyed with the key-chain, swirling it in her finger like she used to do with slings, when she was still proficient with them.

 

By the time they reached Bloodscalp’s guild, he had already been informed of the deed. News really flew at the docks.

 

“Well done, I say! Your reward is well-earned. I think you will find the amount adequate. Ten thousand and fifty gold is no small fortune, though I think you deserve a little more. From my personal armory, a sword. Take well and good care of it.”

 

Cat took the sword in her hands. It was short, and appeared enchanted, if the runes along its sheath were any indicator. She was certain Hexxat would appreciate it.

 

“You have served me well and I am grateful. Go on your way with my blessing, Lady. I shall be planning the relocation of some of my forces to Mae’Var’s former guildhall once your cloudkill has vanished. Embarl here will lead them, as a reward for his loyalty.”

 

“Good for him,” Cat smiled, about to leave, when she remembered something. “I almost forgot; there is another letter I found in Mae’Var’s strongbox. A rather incriminating one.”

 

She retrieved the scroll from its case and presented it to a surprised Bloodscalp.

 

“More treachery in my guild? Things are indeed worse than I originally thought.”

 

“Please do read it,” Cat insisted, keeping a perfect façade of concern.

 

Bloodscalp’s eyes darted from one side of the parchment to the other, narrowing with each line.

 

“What do you have to say to this… Yoshimo?”

 

The thief panicked.

 

“Me? What do you mean!?”

 

“This letter here claims you have been an agent of Mae’Var from the very beginning, tasked with feigning to work on your own to capture my attention so I’d summon you to force you to work for me and wait for a chance to strike,” Bloodscalp summed up the contents of the letter. “I’ll repeat my question… what do you have to say to this?”

 

“I never… I haven’t… I don’t understand!”

 

Bloodscalp unsheathed a short sword.

 

“Perhaps I’ll have to loosen your tongue. To him!”

 

Two of his thieves appeared from the shadows and grabbed Yoshimo’s arms, rendering him unable to move.

 

“I can’t believe it either, Bloodscalp. I thought he was loyal to me, yet here he came, to divulge private information about me,” Cat gave an exaggerated sigh.

 

Yoshimo’s eyes widened.

 

“You… it was you! You wrote the letter! You have to believe me, Bloodscalp! She’s been plotting against both guilds this entire time, I assure you! I—”

 

Yoshimo was silenced by a firm slap across the face. Bloodscalp glared at him.

 

“Shut up, you treacherous snake! This woman has done a service to me beyond anything you could have ever done, both as Cat and the Lady,” he gritted his teeth. “I’ll skip the interrogation. I condemn you to death, Yoshimo!”

 

“No! Cat!” He cried out as he wriggled against his captors, trying in vain to break free.

 

“Oh, don’t you turn to me for help,” Cat hissed. “I don’t do well with traitors. You don’t even deserve the honor of being killed by my hand.”

 

“Tell me of her! Tell me what happened to Tamoko!”

 

Cat froze.

 

“How do you know that name?” She asked, beginning to feel giddy. How could the world hold so many coincidences? It wasn’t possible, it wasn’t…

 

“She was my sister! I came searching for her after hearing she got involved with the Iron Throne!” He replied. “You killed Sarevok. Did you kill her, too?”

 

As traitorous as he had been, he at least deserved the truth about that particular matter.

 

“No,” Cat replied. “I convinced her that she could do better than my stupid half-brother, but one of his most fanatical followers killed her; a necromancer called Korlasz. You may part from this world knowing that I have avenged her.”

 

Yoshimo closed his eyes, peaceful for a moment. Cat averted her eyes, not wanting to see anymore of the thief.

 

“He’s all yours, Bloodscalp.”

 

As she left the guild, she heard Yoshimo’s begs for mercy. She didn’t turn back. He was not Tamoko; even if he had done everything in order to avenge his sister, she could not let betrayal go unpunished. The screams soon faded into silence.

 

Her mind, however, was a whirlwind of chaos.

 

*~*~*

 

Back at the Copper Coronet, Cat announced their restriction from robbing the rich districts and directed her cutpurses and seducers to stick to the bridge district and Waukeen’s Promenade, as well as to exert extreme discretion. Then, she allowed the group to take a breather while she kept enchanting the false dawn traps and deciding their next course of action. In no mood for challenging any fools with a deathwish or sampling Bernard’s bland ales, Dorn left for his room, seeking for a solitude he hadn't known for years, ever since the night he sealed his fate. He remembered every detail like it had been yesterday. The fact that his patron sent him visions of that night whenever he was displeased didn't exactly help him to forget the pathetic condition he was in when he first heard the devil’s voice.

 

A voice that now pounded in his head, making him stumble. He was glad Ur-Gothoz rarely communicated with him when he had company; he would loathe to be seen in such a state.

 

**_“You keep disappointing me, Dorn. Where is the blood I was promised?”_ **

 

_ “You will have it, Master, this I swear,”  _ he replied in his mind, fighting not to cradle his aching head with his hands. The devil’s touch in his mind became more and more pervasive as his hunger grew and his patience waned.

 

**_“And when will that be?”_ ** A loud ringing sound accompanied the voice, making Dorn grit his teeth at the mental attack. **_“There are plenty of worthy souls for you to deliver in the pile of mud you have made your residence, yet that witch of yours bars you from doing your job… and you allow it to happen.”_ **

 

_ “I have already warned her, Master—” _

 

**_“And she has ignored you, tasking you with pointless errands!”_ ** Ur-Gothoz's voice blared in Dorn's head. He couldn't take the pain anymore and fell to his knees.

 

_ “Master, we have slayed men and women by dozens—” _

 

**_“Mere scraps,”_ ** Ur-Gothoz interrupted him,  **_“not a single soul of worth. I did not give you the power you hold so you would repay me with these insults. Perhaps I need to remind you yet again the situation you were in when I came to your aid?”_ **

 

The corners of Dorn's vision darkened, and his body hit the floor. When he opened his eyes, he was back at the Luskan prison where he had been wasting away, awaiting his hanging, betrayed by those he came to call his friends; by the one he had come to love…

 

Except he was seeing the scene play out from the outside, like a mere witness. He saw himself, emaciated, most of the strength he became infamous in the northern lands for long gone after being starved and beaten by the jailers, spat at, mocked, left with nothing but his seering anger and hatred. He was weak.  _ Powerless. _

 

Fortunately unbeknownst to Ur-Gothoz –for he could not read his thoughts but merely communicate by a mental bond they shared–, his mind drifted to a far less unpleasant memory.

 

_ “It was my decision to tether myself to my master,”  _ he heard his own voice saying. Even then, he sounded doubtful.

 

_ “Was it really, though?”  _ Cat’s musical timbre taunted him.  _ “Or were you powerless to make another choice?” _

 

Ur-Gothoz's voice yanked him from his reminiscence of that conversation, and he was back at his room, still laying on the floor, struggling to get on his feet.

 

**_“There is a bloody path ahead of the spawn of Bhaal, but she is stalling you. You must make her yield to your command by any means necessary.”_ **

 

Another jolt of pain shot through Dorn's body, and he fell on all fours. With a sigh, he gave up all resistance.

 

_ “Yes, Master.” _

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The little piece at the beginning is from Lose Control by Evanescence (DON'T YOU DARE TO JUDGE ME, I'LL CUT YOU). It's... you guessed it, for the little scene between Hexxat and Viconia, from Vicky's perspective. I really, really wanted to write some smut about these two and as my first femslash, I really hope you liked it <3 Please leave feedback so I know if I got it right, as I would like to portray non-straight sex as realistically as possible.
> 
> Next chapter is still not complete, but I hope it won't take me so freaking long to update again, and that I can treat you to a little something in the meantime! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I know not much has happened, but this was a necessary setup for something bigger to come. Stay tuned, and please tell me your thoughts about this story, hearing from you all gives me life <3 Until next time!


	13. Yet another dig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat has to help her allies in their respective predicaments in order to fully gain their loyalty. However, she might yet be taking it for granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been FOREVER. Welcome to this new chapter of Strangeness and Charm. I hope you enjoy it <3

 

_Lonely shadows following me_

_Lonely ghosts come calling_

_Lonely voices talking to me_

_Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone_

_Sold my soul to the calling_

_Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone_

* * *

 

Taking yet another tiny sample of Hexxat's blood in a thin spoon with a minuscule bow, its circumference roughly the size of a ladybug, Cat carefully poured it inside its miniature-sized compartment in the false dawn trap. How many times had she repeated the same procedure, trying in vain to get her mind off Yoshimo's death? She couldn't help but thinking of Tamoko, and how she would react upon seeing her brother’s spirit in whatever afterlife their souls ended up in. Cat bet she would be beyond pissed. No, pissed wouldn't even begin to describe it.

 

Back at Baldur's Gate, she had felt pity for the woman and her undying, and completely unrewarded, loyalty to Cat's half-brother. Perhaps she saw something of her old self in the cleric, or perhaps she just couldn't stand to see another woman manipulated and humiliated by a self-entitled, power hungry man. So she convinced her to move on with her life and leave Sarevok behind, for he was beyond saving and he didn't deserve her anyway. And she had meant it, that was why her later death at Korlasz’ hand upset her so much. Which was why she ignored the Flaming Fists’ orders to arrest her and gave her no mercy.

 

_ You enjoyed it. You revelled in her demise. You would have done much worse to her had you known everything you know  _ now.

 

“Ugh, shut up,” she muttered, tossing the finished trap into the box with its companions and cradling her head in her hands.

 

The rage inside her appeared to be learning how to get creative in its ways to get to her. She had spent a fortune in books from the black market in order to find a way to get rid of the shit Irenicus put into her brain, and even though she had found essays about creating pocket dimensions and on the nature of diabolic bounds and contracts, there was nothing about visual and emotional implants. The closest she could get was the effect creatures like nymphs, sirines or dryads had on humanoid psyches. Perhaps another reason he captured the Windspear Hills dryads was to learn how they infused emotions, so he could in turn apply that knowledge? If that was the case, she was pretty much fucked. Cat wondered if it would all go away once that monster was finally dead. What if the rage kept growing stronger? Would it eventually take over her? Would she keep on seeing those she loved betraying and killing her, whether in her nightmares or in flashes of intrusive thoughts?

 

No, that wouldn't happen. Dorn was pissy and too stubborn to say why, but he’d eventually come around. He had always been honest with Cat, which was what earned him a special place of trust. There was no reason he would break it now.

 

_ What if his patron demands it? _

 

“SHUT. THE FUCK. UP.”

 

“Sorry, Cat, but I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

 

Cat jumped to her feet upon hearing Hexxat's voice. How the Hells did she not notice her arrival?

 

“Stop coming into my laboratory without permission! How many times do I have to fucking tell people that?” She lashed out at the vampire. “If you want entertainment, go to the fucking circus or challenge some idiot to fight you at the pit, but as you can see I’m rather busy modifying these traps so they won't burn you to death, so could you PLEASE leave me alone so I can get some fucking work done?”

 

“Can’t do that either. And I only came because this is urgent,” Hexxat replied, completely unfazed by Cat's outburst. “There's an agent of L at the door. I told her I’m currently working with you, so she wants to meet us both.”

 

“Can’t she just come in?” Cat groaned, bothered at having to leave her work half done.

 

“You gave specific instructions not to let any 'pale ones’ in,” Hexxat replied, raising an eyebrow in what appeared to be amusement. Which only made Cat angrier.

 

“Fine,” she sighed. “Let’s go meet this woman.”

 

* * *

  
  


L’s agent was taller than Cat and Hexxat, with an athletic built that highlighted her fighting skills as much as the twin swords hanging from her belt did. Her skin was as pale as most vampires’, from what Cat could see of her hooded face. Two long braids of an auburn hue fell from under the cowl, and despite the darkness, the woman's golden eyes gleamed with the same malice she exhibited in her grin. Cat took good note of the sharpness of her fangs.

 

“Well, well, well; what do we got here?” The woman whistled as she approached Cat with long, leisurely steps. “How could a baby vampire like you muster the force of will not to sink your fangs in this beauty?”

 

“Oh, anyone who ever tried to bite me without my permission would sorely regret it,” Cat scoffed, annoyed at the vampire who was now sniffing her.

 

“Also, I have been a vampire for over a century, Cabrina,” Hexxat replied, crossing her arms. “I have self-control.”

 

“'Over a century’. How cute,” the woman named Cabrina laughed. “Seriously, her scent really is something else. This is no regular human, is she?”

 

“I can speak for myself, Cabrina,” Cat interjected, beginning to get really pissed. How had Hexxat been able to put up with that woman? “Whatever I am is not your concern. And I have a name; it’s Cat. Now tell us what the Hells you want.”

 

“L wasn't pleased to learn of your turning, Hexxat,” Cabrina began, turning up her lips in a mocking smile.

 

“I wasn't thrilled with it myself,” Hexxat narrowed her eyes.

 

“He believes you were of more use to him alive.”

 

“I’ll just have to prove him wrong.”

 

Cat wondered how long the exchange of jabs and snarky remarks would last before she had to begin throwing bodily damage threats. She was glad she had been cautious enough to take a false dawn trap with her, hidden in her pocket.

 

“If I were you, I’d be careful to make sure this next mission goes smoothly,” Cabrina switched her mocking tone to one of warning.  “You wouldn't want to disappoint him.”

 

That was it. She was crossing the line.

 

“Oh yes, heavens forfend you should disappoint L, after he nearly got you killed in Dragomir’s Tomb,” Cat retorted, glaring at Cabrina. Whoever the infamous “L” was, he was a total dick, and Cat would not stand for it and let any of her companions receive any sorts of threats.

 

“Taking this job was Hexxat's decision, darling,” Cabrina let out an exaggerated sigh. “Just like at any other job, you are supposed to successfully accomplish it. She knew the dangers of it when she accepted to serve L.”

 

“She's right, Cat,” Hexxat whispered, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I took this job, and now I must finish it.”

 

The witch ran a hand through her curls. She really didn't want to put up with that “L”, but if Hexxat had already been employed by him before meeting her, then she had no option but to help her up until her job was finished.

 

“Alright,” she gave up with a sigh. “What’s the mission?”

 

“He requires a scepter once possessed by Nan Kung Chi, first high priest of the cult of the Black Leopard,” Cabrina explained.

 

“Where is this scepter?”

 

“The crypts of Durkon.”

 

Uncomfortable silence.

 

“The crypts of Durkon are in Shou Lung,” Hexxat complained.

 

Cat’s eyes lit up, though. Maybe there would be a silver lining to all that mess after all.

 

“I’ve always wanted to visit Shou Lung!” She began to ramble. “To visit the Dragonwall, try some noodles, sneak into the Forbidden City—”

 

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Cat, but this will be strictly a business trip,” Cabrina chuckled, apparently amused at Cat's enthusiasm and Hexxat's annoyance. “You will only visit the Durkon crypts, which are but a step away from Amn’s graveyard for she who holds the Casque of Dragomir.”

 

In silence, Hexxat opened her backpack and retrieved the casque she had been wearing when Cat first met her. It appeared more decorative than protective, with a distorted face embossed on the superior piece of the helm, while a set of spiky ends surrounded the wielder’s face.

 

“It allows its user to tombwalk—one house of the dead is connected to all others by threads the casque can expand and allow travel through,” Cabrina revealed, staring at the casque in wonder. Then her expression changed back to mockery. “I don’t imagine I need to tell you not to don the helm? No. Good. Then go and get L the Claw of the Black Leopard. Report back as soon as you’ve done so.”

 

Hexxat nodded.

 

“It will be done.”

 

Cabrina narrowed her eyes.

 

“One more thing…” she murmured as she snatched the casque from Hexxat's hands and then shoved it on the thief’s head.

 

“What are you doing?” Cat shouted, drawing her dagger, ready to defend Hexxat.

 

Cabrina sent her a cold glare, taking notice of her drawn weapon.

 

“Making preparations in case you’re tempted to leave your job unfinished,” she replied. “Until you have what L wants in your hand, the Casque is a one-way ticket. You won’t be allowed to return until you have achieved your objective.”

 

Cat felt her dagger hand beginning to tremble as the voice in her head telling her to kill the vampire rose higher and higher. She caught a side glance from Hexxat. She appeared tense. If Cat were to attack Cabrina, the thief would be in one or two Hells of a predicament. Taking a few deep breaths to reign in her anger as best as she could, Cat mimicked Cabrina’s mocking smile. It was time to negotiate, it seemed.

 

“Closing off an avenue of retreat makes no sense. Why not give Hexxat the option to tombwalk if she's faced with unbeatable odds?” Cat knew well that L didn't care about Hexxat's well-being in the slightest, but it was still worth a chance to try and paint a pretty picture for Cabrina so she would maybe sweeten the deal. “She can retreat, recover, regroup—go back with whatever's needed to deal with the problem.”

 

Cabrina raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable.

 

“That would make sense, wouldn't it? I’ll discuss it with L and let you know.”

 

With that said, she flung her black cape and left with silent steps, disappearing into the nearest alley. Hexxat watched her leave in silence.

 

“You know she's not going to discuss anything with L, right?” She said after a short while.

 

Cat shrugged.

 

“Had to try. Let’s go find the others, the sooner we deal with this the better.”

 

“Agreed. I don't like being forced to walk around in this casque,” Hexxat replied with a small smile.

 

At least one of them wasn't about to lose it. That was good.

 

* * *

“I see you still don't have the money,” Bodhi commented as she saw Cat entering the graveyard, scrunching her nose in disapproval.

 

“Sorry, I had big emergency expenses lately and some of my income sources have been cut off,” it wasn't a lie; in order to face Irenicus, Cat and her companions needed the proper equipment, which was pricey; and she could no longer send Nin’s protegées to seduce nobles into losing their valuables, having to stick to having some of her thieving units pickpocketing those who crossed the bridge to visit Waukeen’s Promenade or to acquire some black lotus at her establishment.

 

“You’d better begin saving quickly if you want to see your friend again,” Bodhi hissed as she retreated into the shadows. 

 

The fact that it sounded very much like a threat only served to confirm Cat's suspicions that the vampire guild was aligned with Irenicus, which made her wonder if Imoen would be safe from him at Spellhold. She didn't want to even think of the terrible things he could be doing to her at that same moment. She needed to focus. She had to help out her companions in order for them to return the favor, and she needed enough money to buy off one of the dock’s captains so they could take her to the magic prison without any of the warring guilds’ knowledge. That would be costly, considering she also had to keep her business going and her followers protected in order to secure her position when the time to ascend came, and hopefully also to gain some power in order to face Irenicus.

 

So into the Durkon’s crypts it was. Cat nodded at Hexxat, and she touched the helmet with the tip of her fingers, focusing on her destination.

 

“The portal will open now,” she informed the group. “We must join hands in order for me to teleport you too.”

 

“Holdin’ hands like brats? This be ridiculous!” Korgan grumbled as he reluctantly accepted a very amused Viconia's hand.

 

Cat offered hers to Dorn, who pretended not to see her and went on to take Korgan's left. Rolling her eyes, Cat grabbed Edwin's hand, and noted with some satisfaction how the blackguard's eyes narrowed upon seeing the gesture. Suddenly, Edwin let out a grunt of pain.

 

“Could you try not to break my fingers, you brute?” He complained.

 

“It's your own fault your hands are so weak,” Dorn barked in response.

 

_ Why did I fall for such a manchild?  _ Cat thought, sighing as she accepted Hexxat's hand.

 

“Hold on, this is going to get… trippy,” Hexxat warned the group.

 

All of a sudden, the companions’ feet left the floor, and the world shook around them in a whirlwind of colors and undistinguishable shapes. Cat was glad she had skipped dinner, otherwise she might have hurled. After what seemed like an eternity for her, everything stopped spinning and she felt her feet touching ground again. Everything darkened around her as she spun on her feet to get a feeling or her surroundings. She and her companions were in a long corridor, dimly lit by tall red oil lamps placed a few feet away from one another, with inscriptions in what Cat deduced was High Shou language. The air was musty and stale, but overall the place appeared to be well maintained.

 

“Welcome to Durkon's crypts. Now let's get the job done so we can leave as soon as we can,” Hexxat announced as she took some tentative steps ahead, watching out for traps.

 

Along the pathway, there were several tombs Korgan was eager to sack, but luckily Hexxat stopped him by effortlessly grabbing him by his long hair, which earned her a death glare and an endless stream of threats and profanities from the dwarf, which Hexxat quickly put an end to.

 

“Cut it off, Korgan. You are exactly one step away from frying yourself alive, unless you move out of the way and wait for me to dismantle the lightning bolt trap right in front of your feet,” she shocked the dwarf into silence and compliance.

 

After cutting some well hidden wiring, she nodded at the group, who then proceeded to sack all the coffins in the area. That would have usually put Cat in a good mood, but it wasn't the case that time. Her mind was in too many places at once, and none of them good. When it became clear that the item they were searching for wasn't in the area, they moved further into the passage… where they encountered what appeared to be ghosts in monk attire.

 

“Intruders! Intruders in the crypt!” One of them yelled. Of course, the place  _ had  _ to be guarded by spirits.

 

“Kill them!” Another one commanded.

 

“Go ahead, monk. Make my day,” Cat rasped, eyes wide with the all familiar excitement of imminent murder, the voice in her head screaming as she prepared a spell.

 

The one who, judging by the luminous symbols in his clothes, appeared to be the leader of the ghostly group, spoke up for the first time, his translucent face alarmed.

 

“Hold your positions! These aren’t like the other invaders.”

 

Cat raised a hand to stop her eager group from engaging in combat, furrowing her brows. Did that mean that there was someone else after the Claw of the Black Leopard?

 

“Other invaders?” She asked.

 

The leader of the ghost monks nodded.

 

“Hideous creatures of the Underdark have penetrated the Crypt of Scholars. They consume the brains of our ancestors,” he explained.

 

They ate brains and came from the Underdark? That could only mean illithids, which were no good news at all.

 

“Perhaps we could strike a deal, then… if you tell us where we can find the scepter of Nan Kung Chi,” Cat replied, tilting her head to the side with a smile. It was a risky move, but if there were mind flayers around she much preferred to reserve her group's strength for them.

 

The ghost monk nodded.

 

“I am Keno, commander of the spirit guard. Do you have any experience with creatures of the Underdark?”

 

_ What is this, a job interview? _

 

“Only with killing them,” Cat's smile broadened. Perhaps she'd be able to get away with the deal after all.

 

“Few people do,” Keno conceded, relieved by Cat's answer. “Help us kill them and we shall not prevent you from exploring the rest of the crypt.”

 

However, Keno's companions weren't so pleased with having Cat and her companions parading around the crypt.

 

“You’ve gone mad, Keno!” One of the monks gasped in horror. “You can't let them pass.”

 

Thankfully, Keno was wise –or stupid, depending on perspective– enough to ignore his distraught subordinates.

 

“Do we have an agreement?”

 

Cat nodded.

 

“It's a deal!”

 

“The Crypt of Scholars is to the south of here,” Keno pointed in the direction Cat and her group were to follow. “Good fortune be with you.”

 

Then, he and his three underlings guided the group down the passage to a gilded door with intricate patterns and more inscriptions in High Shou. Keno placed a hand on it and, rather than phasing through the solid wood, its golden embellishments shone bright for a split second.

 

“The door to the crypt is open to you now.”

 

Before anyone could make a move, Cat turned to her group.

 

“Alright, everyone. Let's get ready to fight some disgusting tentacle-faced critters,” she rallied them with heartfelt enthusiasm. “Since we don't have any potions of clarity, we're going to have to make do with Viconia's protective spells,” she then turned to the priestess. “How many chaotic commands can you spare?”

 

“Just one,” Viconia sighed in frustration.

 

One. That wasn't nearly enough, but they still had dispelling magic… provided that neither Viconia, Edwin or Cat herself fell under the illithids’ psionic powers. The witch pondered her options for a moment.

 

“Use it on Dorn, then,” she finally said.

 

Viconia raised a questioning eyebrow.

 

“Hexxat is stronger.”

 

“Not by much,” Dorn huffed, indignant.

 

“Not to mention she doesn't carry a greatsword that could cut us in half,” Cat agreed. “Use the spell on him, Viconia.”

 

“What about me?” Korgan complained. “I can also cut ye all in half wit’ me axe!”

 

Cat smirked at him and patted his shoulder.

 

“You, my friend, are finally going to prove if that berserker rage of yours is really worth all the hype,” she replied. “Charge blindly forward and we'll all follow. Try not to attack any of us.”

 

“Try not t’ get in me way,” Korgan grinned like a child on his birthday.

 

Cat’s smile broadened. What a lovable bastard.

 

“Well then, this is the plan; Dorn and I peer into the room where the tentacle creeps are, draw them out, and when they begin to come, you guys hit them with all you've got,” she explained as she walked in circles around her companions. “Don’t forget they have psionic powers; it is imperative to get rid of them quick. Hexxat and Dorn, make sure to stay away from Korgan while you strike. The rest of us will focus on magic attacks and dispelling any possible mind spells they might throw at us. Any questions?”

 

“Why are you scouting with Dorn? The illithids could get you,” Hexxat asked.

 

“It's best to have two of us going to ensure we don't run into any unpleasant surprises,” Cat shrugged. “And honestly, I think by this point I can resist most mind assaults.”

 

_ Thanks, Irenicus,  _ she thought, bitter.

 

“Any more questions, or can we get right to the slaughter?”

 

Silence.

 

“Good. Now let's go for it. Hold your positions until we're back.”

 

Cat had hoped to get another chance to try and talk some sense into Dorn regarding their recent fight before they ran into the illithids, but they found something completely different and unexpected.

 

“Or course…” Cat chuckled nervously as she saw the giant insectoids lurching in their direction. “Umber hulks are 'creatures from the Underdark’, too. How could I have been so stupid?”

 

“CAT, WATCH OUT!”

 

The shrieking sound of an umber hulk charging against the witch deafened her. Something pushed her hard, and she hit the ground. She could make out shadows all around her, but she could hear nothing but a high pitched ringing in her ears. When she tried to cover them, something grabbed her hand and pulled at her. She screamed and took out her dagger to get rid of the claw that held her against her will. Another went for her face, and she changed the aim of her weapon.

 

“AH!”

 

Sound came back, and with it, the shadows cleared up, and she could see Viconia's bleeding palm and Dorn's frown as he reluctantly let her go, and she went pale.

 

“Shit, shit, I'm sorry!” She blathered as she used her healing touch on the priestess, who was glaring daggers at her.

 

“I take it your master plan wasn't so great after all,” she spat.

 

“I wasn't counting on the illithids bringing umber hulks as reinforcements,” Cat huffed, stung by Viconia's criticism and ashamed for having fallen so easily to the creatures’ insidious soundwaves. She had thought her brain was already beyond any further messing. She thought wrong. And it  _ infuriated  _ her.

 

“Guess we'll have to rush our plans,” she shrugged, trying to make light of the fact that the umber hulks alone outnumbered them. “Korgan, charge in there and go berserk on those critters. Dorn and Hexxat, follow suit.”

 

Hexxat nodded.

 

“They can't hurt me if they can't see me,” she replied while unsheathing Bloodscalp's sword, eager to try it out.

 

“I be ready to crack… those things have skulls?” Korgan wondered as he drew his axe.

 

“Viconia, Edwin and I will watch out for any of you getting hit by the hulks’ soundwaves while we try to reach the room where the illithids are,” Cat continued. “Then you two will keep any mind assaults at bay while I prepare a nasty surprise for the illithids.”

 

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Viconia questioned her, which didn't sit well with the witch.

 

“As long as I make it to the illithids everything will go smoothly,” Cat insisted, pointing her nose up. “Now, stop being chicken shit and follow me. Korgan, Hexxat, Dorn, you go first!”

 

As the trio charged into the mortuary chamber, they were greeted by a strange sight; the spirits who had allowed them passage were now fighting the umber hulks with the same prowess they had probably possessed in life. It was likely they had phased through the door to step into the fight while Cat and the others rethought their strategy. Korgan shrugged, then took a flask of fireseed from his belt and downed a few swigs. He then cleaned his mouth with his gauntlet and spat on the floor, much to Cat's dismay.

 

“Alright,” he calmly said as he drew his axe, “do nae get in me way or ye get wrecked.”

 

With that, he let out a wild roar and lunged against the insectoids, which tried and failed to confuse his mind with their grating screeches. His axe hacked limb and shell, and when he was at a safe enough distance for them to join the fight without having to face him, Dorn and Hexxat entered the room, the former charging with a roar not unlike Korgan's, while Hexxat slipped into the shadows to wait for her opportunity to strike at an unaware umber hulk. Cat gestured Edwin and Viconia to follow, and she casted a ranged invisibility spell so they'd go mostly unnoticed until they reached the illithids.

 

All around, the umber hulks clicked their pincers to try and trap their adversaries. They didn't do much to the spirits, which in turn could do quite some damage to the creatures, but not half as much as the demented Korgan, who kept slashing and hacking his way around anything that came in his way. Dorn and Hexxat were cautious enough to fight at a safe distance from him, at the back of the line. The half-orc aimed for direct hits while Hexxat slipped in and out of the shadows to find a weak spot to stab with her sword. They seemed to be doing fine so far. In the meantime, Cat led the way to the crypt, holding hands in a straight line with Viconia and Edwin, so they wouldn't lose one another in their state of invisibility. She was searching for the spot…

 

_ She laid cut open and broken on the floor, her brain splattered all over the place. Such was her fate. Unless, of course, she turned her companions into a bloody mess instead. _

 

Cat scoffed, even if the psionic assault forced her into a stop. The illithid's attempts at twisting her mind were laughable after what Irenicus had been doing to her for months. It made her resilient to that kind of attacks. She guessed she could still be affected by umber hulks’ screeches due to the sound frequency being the source of the anomalous functioning of her brain, rather than a direct assault to her psyche.

 

_ Is that all you've got, fuckers? _

 

She tugged at Viconia's hand so she and Edwin stopped walking.

 

“This is the place,” she said. “ Viconia, assist the others and make sure they don’t wind up confused by the umber hulks. I'll take care of the illithids. Edwin, stand just where you are and mimic my spells on my mark.”

 

“You alone against  _ haszakkin _ ?” Viconia gasped. “Are you out of your mind?”

 

“For better or for worse, I'm not,” Cat sighed in reply as she let go of the priestess’ hand.

 

“Cat, how am I supposed to see your mark if you're invisible?” Edwin complained. “(How can this woman be so idiotic? And to think I thought she might be a smart one among this whole lot of simians…)”

 

“Don’t worry, Edwin, not even a half-wit like you would miss it,” Cat retorted before walking away. She was not in the mood for the conjurer's uncalled for jabs.

 

Unseen as she was, her companions had no other choice than to comply. They soon became visible when Edwin shot a magic missile to end a dying umber hulk and Viconia dispelled Hexxat from a momentarily state of confusion that thankfully didn't cause much damage other than her aimlessly wandering around. Then, the conjurer summoned a pack of hobgoblins to guard them against the insectoids… or the enraged Korgan. While they were at it, Cat strutted casually towards the closed door at the end of the passage. Each step made the mental attacks stronger, but she didn't flinch. Not even when she felt the pressure of two other minds. There were three of them, and the one who had striked first had the necrotic signature of an alhoon. She shielded herself with magic protections and pushed the psionic assault back. She felt the minds of the living illithids retreating. They were weaker. The lesser pressure of the alhoon allowed her to sprint and reach the door, the spell ready in her mind, hidden from the undead illithid's mind eye. Honestly, visions of herself dying gorey deaths lost their shock value after Irenicus submitted her to just as much over and over again, and the insistent commands to kill her companions angered her more than anything else. Bursting the door open, she caught the three illithids unaware, one of them eating an ancient corpse's brain.  _ Disgusting. _

 

“SURPRISE, FUCKERS!”

 

A fireball shot from her hands and exploded in the room, burning through the illithids’ clothes and skin, erasing some of the mirror images the alhoon had casted to protect himself with. Goxxa was his name, and he probably loved it a lot judging by how he had been repeating it in Cat's mind during his assaults.

 

Before any of her foes could even move, however, Edwin was quick by Cat's side, casting another fireball that caused deep burns to the illithid trio. The mind flayers were badly wounded; Cat just needed them to get a little closer. She turned to the conjurer.

 

“Cast another one, then retreat,” she ordered.

 

“I sincerely hope you know what you're doing,” Edwin muttered as he concentrated on another spell.

 

Of course, there was the risk of the illithids trying to get inside Edwin's mind. But that was what provocation was for.

 

“Hey there! Anyone wants roasted octopus?” Cat shouted at her companions, who were finishing off the umber hulks with the aid of the ghostly monks. “Come on, they're so weak they couldn't even flay a babe's mind, no wonder they're sticking for eating dead brains instead!”

 

There she felt it. Their rage, all aimed at her. It manifested in the three of them partaking at a banquet consisting of Cat's brain, her mauled body lying next to her decapitated head, her features barely recognizable after the might of the trio's attack. It was so strong it took most of her mental strength to keep it at bay, and she fell to her knees, sweating profusely. They were fully focused on destroying her mind as they tried to pull at her thoughts and she fought back fiercely, like she had learned to do with Irenicus. Blood began to drip from her nose and ears, and she closed her hands into fists and gritted her teeth as she took the brunt of the attack, especially disgusted by the alhoon's touch on her mind. It reminded her a bit of the accursed mage she was forced to thank for her mental resilience.

 

“Edwin, NOW!” She shouted, her voice strained from the extreme pressure she was under.

 

The Thayvian released a second fireball that left the mind flayers half roasted, and the alhoon with no further mirror images to hide behind. Cat took a deep breath and jumped to her feet as she felt them recede from her mind. Wiping the blood off her nose, she raced towards them as Edwin walked away. As the three creatures glared at her, she smiled, closed her eyes and opened her arms, releasing the sunfire spell she had fought so fiercely to keep from vanishing. Now only Goxxa remained… and her friends had already reached her. As she and Edwin pierced the alhoon's protections and lowered his defenses, the spirit monks tried to fight him, only for him to swallow the spiritual essence of two of them with his dried, rotten tentacles. However, the distraction proved enough for Dorn and Korgan –who had just snapped out of his berserker rage– to act as Edwin and Cat shot him magic missiles. And thus, Goxxa the alhoon, so proud of his name, was felled, his head severed from his body. Since alhoons lacked the phylacteries that ensured the survival of fully formed liches –or illithiliches, in that specific case–, there was no way for Goxxa to come back. The battle was won… which meant it was time to collect the due rewards.

 

“Nothing like mind flayers to make you appreciate the company of a crazy vampire,” Hexxat commented, as she stepped on Goxxa's tentacles, breaking them under her boot.

 

“Or a crazy witch,” Cat turned to Hexxat and smirked. “Well, Keno?”

 

The leader of the monks nodded, solemn, and somehow retrieved a very physical key from his ghostly pocket. Cat was very curious as to how that worked.

 

“After our ancestors’ resting place, go east and use this key to open the door you shall find,” he instructed. “There you will find Ki Chin Sang. He holds the key of the Master's Crypt, where the Claw of the Black Leopard rests. I cannot guarantee he will give up the key willingly, though.”

 

“Better than nothing, I guess,” Cat shrugged. What was a battle with a ghost after umber hulks and mind flayers, anyway?

 

“We shall return to our guarding posts,” Keno announced. “We thank you again for your assistance.”

 

Once the monks left, Cat's grin doubled in size as she looked at the goods inside the tombs they had just defended.

 

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let's loot everything!”

 

Nobody needed to be told twice.

 

* * *

  
  


“Do I still have mummy bandages on my hair?” Viconia asked in annoyance, trying to undo the knots of her silvery locks after finding out the sarcophagi on the way to the Master's Crypt weren't empty, and that their occupants weren't all that happy about having their possessions taken away.

 

“Only one,” Hexxat lied as she ran a hand down the drow's silky hair, somehow managing to untie the knots. “There you go.”

 

“Thank you,” Viconia's smirk gave away that she was very much aware of what Hexxat was doing.

 

Cat's eyes widened at the scene.

 

“Wait, Hexxat, how did you do that?” She asked, desperate for a way to fix her knotted curls. “Teach me your ways, oh great one!”

 

“So you can do it yourself and no one comes to my aid? I think not,” the vampire snorted. “Besides, your hair is beyond any help. You could really use a haircut.”

 

In a split second, Cat was only a few inches away from Hexxat before even she could register what was happening. Despite her lower height, she somehow managed to look intimidating as she sent the thief a glare that would probably make a greater basilisk jealous.

 

“Don’t. Even. Suggest. It.”

 

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the rage receded. Cat sighed and walked away, determined to get the damned key and be done with L's business. So her rage now manifested itself over petty, meaningless stuff, too? Maybe Irenicus had connected certain ideas, like cutting her hair, to situations or people that enraged her, like Gorion and his stubborn determination to tame her wild mane when she was a child, so it could cause a trigger. Yet another mess for her to detangle.

 

_ I need a fucking break. _

 

“Alright, let's speak to this Ki Chin Sang and get him to give us the key,” she sighed. “I wonder if he'll put up a fight too.”

 

However, the next room didn't lead directly to the guardian of the key, but rather to a closed door of a deep crimson color with golden engravings in High Shou, more than in any of the lamps, doors and walls they had seen before. It was obviously a story or warning of some sort. It caught not only Cat's eye, but Hexxat's too.

 

“That design…” She muttered as she inspected the engravings.

 

“You understand the language?” Cat asked in awe, making a mental note to ask Hexxat to teach it to her when she wasn't neck deep into all sorts of trouble. It was already hard enough for her to keep up with Viconia's drow language lessons as it was.

 

“Enough to follow the story it tells,” Hexxat replied, examining the writings closely.

 

“What does it say?” Cat asked, already beside her, enthralled by the beauty of the golden calligraphy.

 

“It tells the tale of a woman named Huang Chi-Wei—a healer of some repute in Nan Kun Chi's time,” Hexxat retold. “A strong woman, it appears. She would not kneel before the Black Leopard.”

 

“I think I know how this will end,” Cat groaned. It was always the same story, over and over.

 

_ But not in my case. I will be victorious. _

 

Hexxat just nodded.

 

“The same thing that happens to all who threaten those in power.”

 

“Do you think the same applies to me?” Cat asked the vampire, grinning.

 

“You are as unpredictable as they come, so who knows? Maybe change could start with you,” Hexxat chuckled. She turned back to the writings, a nostalgic expression on her face. “Did I ever tell you about my mother, Cat?”

 

“No. You seemed satisfied to leave the past in the past,” Cat said, trying not to pry too much in case she missed her chance to get to know her reserved companion a little better.

 

“I never knew her—not well. She was a Mazewalker of Ubtao—what they would call a cleric in Amn,” Hexxat reminisced, her centuries-old eyes lost in a distant past. Cat wondered how much she could learn just by speaking to her.

 

“Oh, your mom was a priestess, too?” Cat joked. “Did she try to sacrifice you to her god like mine?”

 

Hexxat turned to Cat in horror.

 

“Your mother did that to you?”

 

“She tried,” Cat shrugged. “But then she took an arrow to the throat, and my adoptive father took me in.”

 

“You were fortunate,” Hexxat concluded.

 

Cat glared at the closed door.

 

“Well, I wouldn't call it that much, but I did survive, yeah,” she answered, remembering the failed exorcism Gorion made her go through, his controlling and judgemental attitude, all the lies he told her…

 

“Anyway, you were telling me about your mother,” The witch forced a smile, trying to swallow down the rage prompting her to attack the vampire and scratch at the stupid doors and spit at Huang Chi-Wei's weakness. “How is it you didn't know her?”

 

“She devoted her life to her god, and so I was raised by my aunts,” Hexxat replied. “Good women, all.”

 

“You miss them?”

 

Silence.

 

“I… do not wish to dwell on that. We have work to do,” Hexxat shook her head, as if awakening from a spell.

 

There went Cat's chance. Oh, well, that information was better than nothing. Perhaps it was due to Cat's own unwillingness to speak about Gorion? If that was the case, then it was only fair Hexxat kept her secrets, too.

 

“Right. Let us move on.”

 

“According to the writings, this door will lead us to Ki Chin Sang,” Hexxat explained. “Huang Chi-Wei's story was written on it so she would stay below the Black Leopard after death.”

 

“Really? That Black Leopard was an asshole,” Cat scrunched her nose in disapproval. “Let’s go sack his tomb.”

 

The door led to a wider chamber where six plain graves laid on the ground. Cat instructed everyone to make sure they didn't step on them, lest their occupants might feel offended and rise to meet death at their hands once more. The part of her that wasn't entirely hers; her rage, desperately wanted to stomp on the graves, to dig down until she found the corpses so she could kill them once more, but her fight with the umber hulks and the illithids had left her almost out of spells, and even though she found a sweet new jade dagger with a powerful enchantment, she would much rather have her companions make it out of Shou Lung in one piece. After inspecting what was obviously the door to Nan Kung Chi's resting place –the leopard claw shaped keyhole and the animal's fur patron decorating the door made it kind of conspicuous–, Cat took to the next closed door, hoping she wouldn't encounter any more of those, or she would surely bash her head against them. Why so many corridors and doors? Why complicate things so much for people who were already dead?

 

Just as the monks had warned them, Ki Chin Sang awaited at the small chamber after the corridor where the graves were. Just as Cat feared, Ki Chin Sang wasn't exactly cooperative.

 

“Outside this room are six sarcophagi,” the spirit claimed. “Inside each is one of the master's most trusted lieutenants. Defeat them all, and you will have proven yourself worthy. I will give you the key.”

 

“Six?” Cat snorted. “Is that all? See you in a couple minutes.

 

As she turned to leave, Hexxat placed a hand on her shoulder. Turning discreetly to make sure the spirit was paying them no mind, she whispered to the witch.

 

“Cat, a word. We don't necessarily need to do as this Ki Chin Sang says. All we need is the key.”

 

Cat nodded with a grin.

 

“Get to it. Show that idiot, and also Cabrina and L, who's boss.”

 

In no time, Hexxat was behind the undead monk. A blink later, she was by Cat's side, showing the tip of the key from under her sleeve. The witch nodded and motioned everyone to follow. The Claw of the Black Leopard awaited… and once it was in their power, hopefully neither L nor Cabrina would bother Hexxat for a while, and she would be able to back up Cat in her next enterprise. She  _ really  _ didn't want to think of what it entailed.

 

_ Finally, the last fucking chamber and… no way, another fucking mummy!? _

 

Nan Kung Chi's mortuary chamber was the most luxurious by far, as it seemed to suit someone of his rank. Like it made any difference once he was dead, bandaged and all dried out. There were drawings on the wall that depicted his many great deeds, or at least those which people were supposed to believe, like… killing a tarrasque with a single punch? Cat rolled her eyes at that one. The columns that held the place together had been sculpted in the shape of dragons. The monk's tomb could fit ten more people with ease, and his riches were displayed openly for all to see. Of course, he had to be holding the staff that matched the description of the Claw of the Black Leopard.

 

“Who dares to defile the resting place of Nan Kung Chi?” The mummy demanded to know in a raspy voice. It was a wonder he was still able to speak in his state of decay.

 

The undead monk's comment gave Cat an idea. She needed an outlet for her mounting rage. She chortled at the mummy.

 

“If you think I'm defiling it now, you’re really going to hate what comes next,” she taunted him, readying some of her leftover offensive spells all the while.

 

“You have come to find your death, then!” Nan Kung Chi bellowed, or at least he bellowed as much as his raspy voice would allow.

 

An important thing to bear in mind about mummies was how essential it was to catch them unawares. Though he had been a powerful monk in life, Nan Kung Chi's state of undeath had significantly slowed down his reflexes, and so he was hit by Cat and Edwin's magic missiles before he could cast a spell of his own or use his sickening touch to incapacitate any of Cat's companions. Dorn, Korgan and Hexxat attacked with no mercy, and though he was able to land a few blows, Nan Kung Chi could not hold their quick attacks combined, even if Korgan's axe had no effect on him. As Viconia used her holy symbol to turn the monk and make him fall back, and Cat destroyed as many invaluable relics as she could to provoke the mummy's anger and make him lose his focus, Dorn landed a tremendous blow to the mummy's skull that cracked it open like an egg, making his rotten brains visible… and smellable.

 

“EW!” Cat covered her nose with a hand as she shot magic missiles to Nan Kung Chi's brain with her free one.

 

It was a permanent solution to undead infestations; going for the brain. Had Cat known the monk would still be around, she would have definitely offered Goxxa to kill the spirits that guarded him in exchange for allowing him and his minions to eat  _ all  _ the available dead brains in that crypt. She would still have had to kill him when he eventually turned against her, craving  _ living  _ brains, but still. No point in dwelling on what could have been, though. She followed Hexxat to the monk's humongous tomb and waited for her to check it for traps before retrieving the relic they had come for. Once in her hands, Hexxat turned and smiled at Cat.

 

“That went well,” she said, satisfied with the outcome of the mission.

 

“It could have gone worse,” Cat nodded in agreement. “Now let's get out of this place and deliver the goods to Cabrina.”

 

Hexxat nodded and turned to the remainder of the group.

 

“Let us join hands again, and be silent,” she instructed as she wrapped herself in Dragomir's cape. “I need to concentrate if I'm to tombwalk us back to Amn.”

 

After the trippy whirlwind of shapes and colors, the companions managed to reach Amn without losing the contents of their stomachs, which was as significant a feat as retrieving the damned Claw of the damned Black Leopard, in Cat's view. Since they had spent all night in their search, Cabrina wouldn't make her appearance until sundown, which would grant Cat some time to oversee the progress in installing the false dawn traps all around the city. The agents of hers tasked to do so were commanded to report back to Shantir after their work was done. Only a few of them would drop the proverbial bombs in each of Athkatla's districts, in turns. Cat secretly hoped Cabrina would step on one; she didn't like one bit the way she disrespected Hexxat.

 

Back at the Copper Coronet, Shantir reported the progress to Cat. Waukeen's Promenade and the docks had been the main areas of focus, so the vampires had no doubt who “was” behind the preemptive strike. The engineer's agents made sure to protect the slums well, too, and they would soon move beyond the Bridge district, and finally to the Graveyard one so the vampires were cornered into taking action. Cat wasn't even close to the estimate she had made for her trip to Spellhold, so she hoped the war would keep both guilds busy enough not to turn to her for help. She needed them weak. Once she gave her approval to the operations and performed the ritual killings of those who offered themselves for the day –Mareesha was a really quick learner, Cat almost felt tempted to teach her torture tactics so maybe she could delegate some of her mounting work on a trusted someone, but then she remembered she didn't trust the girl quite that much–, she retired to her bedchamber in order to memorize her next spells and get some rest before stepping into the next task at hand.

 

After all, that planar sphere wasn't going to explore itself.

 

* * *

  
  


The Government District was the pinnacle of Amnian luxury, with not only high official buildings, but also magnificent estates. Even the prison had been designed to look easy on the eyes. All the while, the people from the slums lived in shacks, if they were fortunate to have a roof that sheltered them. Cat felt repulsed by the display, wondering how much of the fine northern districts’ infrastructure had been founded by the slave trade she had put an end to. Swallowing both her feelings and her pride, she allowed Korgan to guide her to the entrance to the Council of Six building, where they would meet his contact with the Cowled Bastards regarding the quest to explore the planar sphere.

 

*~*~*

 

The nobility of Athkatla shot the group dirty looks as they passed by. Dorn would have quickly shut the light in those idiotic eyes permanently, weren't it for Cat's orders not to intervene within that specific district in the open. There was too much at stake to risk her carefully plotted plans going to waste.

 

_ She is stalling her own progress by this senseless inaction. _

 

Dorn shook his head. It was becoming harder for him to tell his own thoughts apart from his master's. Ur-Gothoz made his demands into Dorn's needs, and so he needed bloodshed. Perhaps the exploration of the planar sphere would bring him some satisfaction in that regard, though he doubted it would be much more of a challenge than the monks’ tomb they had just raided. Maybe he could persuade Cat to allow him to slaughter Hexxat’s contact with her employer, the witch seemed to really dislike the woman, judging by the death glares she sent in her direction as Hexxat gave her the staff she had been tasked with retrieving…

 

“Psst! Hey, big guy! Yes, you! Come over, I have an offer for you I'm certain you won't refuse!”

 

A gnome in flashy garments of colors so bright that hurt Dorn's eyes signaled to him from a nearby alley. He was carrying a huge cart of turnips, as well as an assortment of gadgets, the purpose of which Dorn ignored completely, and… was that massive cylindrical metal object hanging from his back a crossbow?

 

“Be quick with it, merchant. What is it you offer?” Dorn asked, mildly interested in the gnome's goods.

 

“Well, you’ve got the look of an adventurer about you, the crossbow-carrying type,” the merchant began an endless blathering. “I’ve been one myself, betwixt stints as a turnip salesman that is. Occasionally the markets get down and the formerly self-respecting purveyors of fine veggies are forced to prostitute their abilities in the form of adventuring—”

 

The gnome protested as Dorn grabbed him effortlessly by the collar of his… leather armor? What a strange personage indeed.

 

“Get. To. The. Point.” Dorn growled, glaring daggers at the helpless man kicking the air, trying to release himself from the blackguard's hold.

 

“Yes—If you'd be so kind to lower me to the ground—Ouch!” He protested as Dorn shoved him away, making him hit the floor. He quickly got back on his feet and dusted off his iridescent armor.

 

“The point, o-so-friendly one, is that I've items to sell you that are especially created, by yours truly, to aid one on the dangerous path to heroism,” the gnome began to explain.

 

“I'll pass,” Dorn began to turn away upon hearing the word “heroism”.

 

“Hey, don’t mind if it's villainy what you fancy!” The gnome called after him, insistent.

 

Dorn turned back to him.

 

“I'm listening.”

 

The half-orc could see the glint of greed in the merchant's coal black eyes, which matched his thick eyebrows, receding hairline and would do his beard too, weren't it spotted with gray hair.

 

“My items are known as Jan Jansen's (that's me) Flasher Master Bruiser Mate,” the man called Jan Jansen announced with pride.

 

He then proceeded to retrieve the metal mechanism hanging to his back. It did not look like a crossbow in the slightest, with so many gears, wheels, levers, buttons and other complex components Dorn was unable to make out. Jan then took what looked like a small, pinkish skull from a case attached to his belt that the blackguard assumed was the Flasher the merchant babbled about. The gnome then opened a lid in the crossbow and introduced the Flasher in it, and then pushed back a tube of sorts Dorn hadn’t even realized was mobile.

 

“Now pay attention,” Jan instructed him as he aimed –with a quite good positioning of his body if Dorn was being honest– at an imaginary enemy, “you take one o’ these babies and chuck it at average Joe Or—ahem, Ogre, close your eyes real tight and WHOOSH!, he's running around in circles clutching at his eyeballs and screaming and yelling like Uncle Sven after three days on a turnip beer bender—”

 

“Hold gnome, in the name of the Amnian Revenue and Taxation Board,” a voice blared from the other end of the alley.

 

Two armed men strode in Jan's direction. With a quick motion, he moved the tube of his Flash shooting mechanism and hanged it behind his back. A poor decision, in Dorn's view, seeing the little sympathy the other men showed the gnome.

 

“Argh, not again,” Jan muttered as the men drew closer. “That bottom-feeding, turnip-hating, scum-sucking brigand! Nothing better to do than stop an honest businessman from selling high quality illegal Flashes for a reasonable price.”

 

Then, he turned to Dorn.

 

“Here he comes, cover for me.”

 

The collector agent raised his chin in self-importance.

 

“Jan Jansen, gnomish citizen of Amn, you have been charged with tax evasion and the illegal sale of illegal items in an illegal manner.”

 

Jan sighed dramatically while Dorn fumed behind him, eager for the men to take their leave so he could finish his business with the merchant, or maybe kill them all and be done with it.

 

“Trax, old friend, you do me a great wrong! I would never break the law. As my pappy always said…”

 

“Enough!” Trax barked. “You'll not sidetrack me with your cursed tales again. I'm smarter than you think!”

 

The man beside him snickered, and Trax turned to glare at him.

 

“Shut up, you, latrine duty beckons…”

 

The snickers came to a quick halt.

 

“...that's better,” Trax sneered at his subordinate before turning back to Jan. “We’ve been onto you for days, Jansen. We've caught you in the very act of selling your dangerous and illegal contraptions.”

 

“What cruel fate! Falsely accused by an old friend!” Jan exclaimed, keeping his dramatic façade.

 

“I'm not your friend, Jansen!” Trax retorted.

 

“You're not anyone's friend,” Trax’ guard muttered under his breath, yet loud enough for the collector to hear.

 

“Oh, that's it!” Trax spat, turning to the soldier in a tiny, ridiculous jump. “Do you enjoy guarding used chamber pots?”

 

“Sorry, sir,” the guard looked back down to the ground in mocked shame Trax was not smart enough to detect.

 

“I swear this job will land me in an asylum,” Trax sighed, then turned to Dorn, finally noticing him. “And who might you be? You’re certainly no regular customer of this felon.”

 

“None of your business,” Dorn growled for all answer. “Begone.”

 

Trax stretched higher, trying to look more intimidating, but he was dwarfed by the half-orc.

 

“I will certainly not leave until you have told me whether this gnome has tried to sell you illegal merchandise,” Trax insisted. “Specifically 'Flashers’ as he calls them.”

 

Dorn stretched further, taking a few steps in Trax’ direction and making him recoil while his guard tried to hold back his laughter.

 

“I said begone. Do not make me repeat it,” Dorn growled, baring his teeth at the collector.

 

Trax appeared to be thinking twice about actually insisting… but in the end, Dorn's threat did not deter him.

 

“Curses! The gnome has gotten to you, too! Jansen, you can no longer peddle in Athkatla.” He then turned to Dorn. “As for you, you have made a dangerous enemy.”

 

Trax’ guard couldn't hold back his laughter any longer.

 

“Who's the dangerous enemy?” He asked between cackles.

 

“I am, you idiot!”

 

“Oh, really?” Dorn asked, unsheathing a more than glad Lilarcor, who urged him to decapitate the man. “Prove it, then.”

 

“Guard, to him!” Trax called, his face pale and sweat dirtying his already greasy hair.

 

However, the guard was already running. Dorn turned to Jan.

 

“There goes a witness. Prove the worth of your weapon while I take down this pest.”

 

“Pest, you say? How dare you!” Trax exclaimed, drawing his spear.

 

Before he had time to do anything with it, though; Dorn, Lilarcor and Ur-Gothoz all claimed their prize. Jan, in the meantime, shot one of his infamous Flashers at the fleeing guard, and Dorn remembered to shut his eyes tight in the very last second. Even with them closed he was aware of the blinding light that had just hit the guard. When he opened them, he saw the man rolling on the floor, screaming while covering his eyes. Trotting to his side, he raised Lilarcor…

 

“Murder! Death! KILL!” The sword screamed, sounding a tad too much like Dorn's patron.

 

“Shut up!” The half-orc cut it off before decapitating the guard, silencing both him and the sword at last.

 

Then, Dorn turned to Jan with an arched eyebrow.

 

“How was that for villainy?”

 

“Villainy?” Jan gasped, indignant, then pointed at Trax’ head. “There goes a  _ truly evil  _ man. Uncle Scratchy looks like a saint in comparison. Regardless, it seems that I'm once again out of the black market. At least until I scrounge up a fortune to set up my business and have Trax’ superiors, who will undoubtedly be the next to come after me, well bribed.”

 

“If it's business you want, I am interested in a bargain,” Dorn said, barely able to believe his own words. But then again, there was something he wanted, and he wouldn't leave that alley without it.

 

“Sorry, pal, even with them dead, it would be too risky to sell you my Flashers,” Jan replied with evident sadness.

 

“Who said anything about those skulls of yours?”

 

Probably for the first time in his life, Jan Jansen was at a loss for words.

 

“But if not my Flashers, what—?”

 

“Your turnips,” Dorn replied as he squatted to clean the blood off Lilarcor with Trax’ garments. “I want a regular delivery. Go to the Copper Coronet, ask for Hendak and say the Lady sent you. My room is first to the left. I shall pay you well.”

 

“You work for the Lady of the Slums?” Jan's eyes lit up. “Do you think she would grant me protection to sell my Flashers? Maybe those who work for her might need them, you know, I actually live in the slums, so I know for a fact how hard they are to be kept safe. As auntie Rosalinda always said—”

 

“I don’t care what any member of your family says, begone and do your job, and I might speak to the Lady in your favor,” Dorn interrupted the gnome, eager to be rid of him… and to have his delivery ready.

 

Jan probably caught the clue from Dorn's glare as he stood back up without sheathing his now clean sword. He swallowed.

 

“Yes, sir! A pleasure to do business with an agent of the Lady, sir!”

 

As he left the alley, Dorn caught sight of his companions entering the Council of Six building. Muttering a curse, he sheathed his sword and followed suit, wondering what kind of fool's errand Cat would be willing to carry out that time.

 

*~*~*

 

“I answered the call o’ the money, Tolgerias, but I've a new employer now,” Korgan said to the wizard, shrugging. “No self-respecting mercenary like me’d refuse this offer, but accepting or not be up to her now.”

 

Right. As if Korgan wouldn't get utterly pissed and voice his displeasure all the fucking time if Cat refused.

 

“We have a deal, sir,” she replied with a smile.

 

“Remember, you must kill him on sight and bring the body,” Tolgerias insisted like he had been doing since he called Korgan up for their meeting. “We believe we can use it to access the planar sphere.”

 

“How so?” Cat tilted her head with genuine curiosity, keeping a deceivingly innocent expression.

 

“That business concerns the Cowled Wizards only,” was Tolgerias’ dry reply. “You just need to know we need the body. He lives at the docks, just left of the temple of Oghma. Now get to work, and you will be duly rewarded.”

 

Once out of the Government District and away from possible prying ears, Cat turned to Korgan to voice her thoughts on the quest they just accepted.

 

“So… if this Valygar is really the key to accessing the planar sphere, we might be able to get him to spill the beans and get inside by ourselves,” she said. “I'm certain that place will contain treasure beyond anything Tolgerias could offer. What do you say, friend?”

 

“I say if there be better treasure, then we do as ye say, Kitty,” Korgan chuckled in answer.

 

It was decided, then. Time to pay Valygar Corthala a visit.

 

The temple of Oghma that was the group's reference for finding Valygar's house could not be any more different from the one Cat had known in Candlekeep. That one had no walls or roof, just a staircase that led to a stone stage where the priest would praise the divine knowledge his god granted him, healed the guards’ wounds from training or brawling each other over petty squabbles –many of them instilled by Cat–, or blessed young scholars who felt they were in need of divine aid for their upcoming exams. The one at the docks, on the other hand, was a tiny lime-ridden wooden shack, the one to its right even smaller. That was their mark; Valygar Corthala's residence. Hexxat easily picked its lock and the group invited itself in –it was slightly inconvenient, having to literally invite Hexxat to break into someone else's home, but there were limits to her vampiric powers, great as they may be.

 

Inside the two-story there was a nervous man who began to tremble uncontrollably when he saw six adventurers armed to the teeth entering the house as if it were their own.

 

“D-do you come for Master Corthala?” He stammered. “Please, do not harm him! The damned wizards started it, he just defended himself!”

 

_ What? _

 

“We are not here to hurt him!” Cat rushed to say, seeing the opportunity right before her eyes. “Please, we need to see him!”

 

“The master has retired to his cabin in the woods after the attack,” the servant replied, appalled.

 

“You don't happen to know where that cabin is, right?” Cat pressed on, doing her best to keep her tone sweet and kind. The näive man was falling for it.

 

Alas, as much as he bought her act, he shook his head, worry never leaving his features.

 

“I'm afraid not. He's never disclosed its location because it's the place where he goes when he needs to be alone,” the servant replied.

 

“I see… Could we take a look around?” Cat asked, determined to find that man. “We might find clues about his whereabouts. He is in danger, and he is going to need friends.”

 

The servant nodded.

 

“Indeed. If it serves to aid my master, please make yourselves at home.”

 

“Thank you kindly.”

 

Cat immediately moved upstairs, certain that she would find what she needed in Valygar's room. Anything could be useful, so she ordered her companions to aid her. The room was mostly empty, safe for a desk, a bed and a wardrobe that contained no clothes. The bed had been neatly made, undoubtedly by the servant, and on the desk sat a parchment scroll that Cat was quick to pick up and read. It was a tax notice accounting for the man's properties; his house at the docks and a cabin in the Umar Hills.

 

“Got you!” Cat whispered, grinning at the piece of parchment.

 

* * *

  
  


It was kind of hard to appreciate the beauty of nature when it was out to kill you. Bringing Tabitha along had been a wise choice, as the beasts that dared to attack the group were quickly driven off by the leopard's might. It was a small settlement they had run into, and it appeared to be under the beasts’ claws and teeth. Definitely the last place for a man to seek solitude, so Cat decided to ignore the village and seek for a path around it. Surely those animals were directed by an angered druidic circle of some sort, but she would not make it her business unless there was any sort of profit to it. Besides, finding Valygar was a more pressing matter by far.

 

Luckily, the wild animals at the thick forest that licked up the sides of the hills left the group alone as soon as they retreated from the village. After a long trek northwest, luck smiled at them. A lone cabin sat at a particularly hidden spot, completely surrounded by oaks and chestnuts. It was clear that whoever built that cabin did not desire company, but Valygar would have it nonetheless. Hexxat checked the lock of his door and picked at it without breaking a sweat.

 

“Amateurs…” she scoffed.

 

The door crept open and Cat and her companions entered the house. Truth be told, the place was rather cozy on the inside, filled with pots and pans and the delicious scent of freshly baked bread that let Cat know that despite being a ranger, Valygar probably had the heart of a gourmet. She surprised herself wishing she wouldn't have to kill him.

 

They found him in his room, a small but comfortable chamber at the other end of the house. From the pissed look in his eyes and the hold on his katana, he had heard them coming and was more than ready for them. Not that they had bothered much with stealth, especially Dorn and Korgan with their ridiculously clanky armors.

 

“Ho there!” The ranger bellowed. “More Cowled ones or their servants, no doubt. By the gods, I swear you'll not live to take me to that damnable sphere!”

 

“So this is where the cowardly hidden ranger be, eh?” Korgan spat on the floor. “Ye’re correct, boy… the wizards hired us to track ye down.”

 

“Enough, Korgan!” Cat exploded. “I do the speaking for a reason. And you'd better not spit again on a potential ally's floor if you don't want to end up cleaning it yourself!”

 

“What's this?” Valygar raised an eyebrow in surprise, so taken aback by Cat's outburst that he lowered his guard. “You're playing double agents?”

 

“That pretty much depends on you,” Cat replied with her best smile. “When we went searching for you at your house at the docks, your servant told us you had a confrontation with the Cowled Wizards that they  _ conveniently _ did not tell us about. They did tell us, though, that you could be the key to unlock the planar sphere that has recently crashed on the slums of Athkatla. What do you have to say to that?”

 

Valygar pinched the bridge of his nose. He appeared… pained?

 

“My ancestor, Lavok, built that sphere as some sort of planar travelling device,” he revealed, tiredness showing in his voice. “Lavok disappeared with the sphere over five centuries ago. It has not been seen again until now.”

 

Cat's eyes widened.

 

“No way! It allows time travel too? I thought that was a myth!”

 

Valygar sighed.

 

“You seem as eager to enter that damned sphere as the Cowled Wizards,” he commented.

 

“Professional deformation bias, please understand,” Cat chuckled, unable to hide her excitement.

 

“I have no desire to meet my ancestor,” Valygar's grip on his katana tightened again, and his eyes narrowed, none of it escaping Cat, “and even less desire to help the Cowled Wizards, who seem certain that my body is the only key to the sphere… alive or no. They tried to force my cooperation when I refused to aid them, and I had hidden myself as a result. I thought I had been successful, as well, until you came.”

 

Cat felt the tension arising in the room. She didn't need to turn to know all of her companions were already gripping their weapons, ready to engage in a fight that could perhaps be avoidable. Of course, her inner voice was pushing her to unsheath her dagger, but gritting her teeth, she focused on the long term possibilities. Holding a planar sphere could grant her not only great power, but also critical knowledge that could aid to defeat Irenicus, and the Cowled Wizards’ theory about Valygar's body was just that; a theory. It could not be a coincidence that Lavok's sphere arrived to the very place where his descendant lived and that said descendant was so reticent to meet him. No, she had to dig up further before making a rushed decision.

 

“What can you tell me about this Lavok? Do you have any idea about what he could want from our time and plane?” Cat inquired, determined to get as much information as she could to gain the upper hand against the damned Wizards.

 

Valygar took a deep breath and spoke with a determination that impressed Cat.

 

“I am the last of the Corthala line,” he explained. “That may mean little to you, but it means plenty to Lavok. When he left Athkatla in the sphere, he was already many centuries old. He extended his life by stealing the bodies of blood relations. If he yet lives, you can imagine my concern. This is also why my blood may allow entrance to the sphere.”

 

It was clear that Lavok had used necromancy to draw the life force of his relatives and strengthen his. The fact that he didn't wait for Valygar to have descendants before going after him probably meant he had been in the future and seen the ranger's refusal to pass on his blood in order to avoid anyone else's death by his ancestor's hand. So time travel  _ was  _ real, and  _ maybe,  _ time was also malleable… Cat definitely needed to access that sphere.

 

“So he's out to hunt you down?” Cat asked. “In that case, I doubt he or the Cowled Wizards are going to give up. Why not face your ancestor? With our help, I am certain you would emerge victorious.”

 

Valygar scoffed.

 

“And how am I supposed to know I can trust you?”

 

“You can't,” Cat grinned. “You either trust us and get us to the sphere or hide forever like a coward.”

 

“I am not a coward!” Valygar shot back, his face contorted in rage.

 

Why was it that  _ that  _ strategy always worked?

 

“Prove it.”

* * *

  
  


As the group was making its way out of Valygar's cabin with its owner in tow, Dorn stood between Cat and the door, which he shut closed before she could walk out.

 

“Your constant supervision tires me, Bhaalspawn,” he spat, eyes narrowed with a disdain that felt like a stab through Cat's heart. She didn't let it show, though.

 

“This again?” She huffed, crossing her arms in impatience. As much as the situation hurt her, she really didn't have the time for more of Dorn's childish whining. Not unless he gave her the due explanations for his dickish behavior.

 

However, he appeared less than willing to face the facts.

 

“I warned you already. Your leadership is laughable and your course folly. I refuse to bow down any longer!”

 

Subversion? That  _ was  _ new. Still, Cat could see right through all that bullshit. If he wasn't going to address his  _ real  _ problem out of his own free will, she would have to force him to.

 

“Will you tell me already what this is really about?” She pressed on, undeterred by the rage on Dorn's face that would have sent anyone else running for their lives.

 

“My patron demands blood and death!” He roared. “You give me naught but skirmishes and petty arguments!”

 

Cat pinched the bridge of her nose. He and his stupid mood swings… and all the while, the rage inside her became a chant for her to take his life, slash his throat, bathe in his blood… and she was  _ fucking done _ with it all.

 

“I feel your frustration,” she replied, wholeheartedly. “I long for bloodshed too, and there  _ will  _ be, Dorn, but now is not the time.”

 

She thought that appealing to reason by reminding him of how much was at stake for her would make him understand, or at least stop pushing her into giving him what she still couldn't. As was prone to happening as of late, she thought awfully, awfully wrong.

 

“Then when?” He shouted. “Tomorrow? Next week? No! Ur-Gothoz demands death, and he shall have it! From now on, we do things my way.”

 

So subversion it was. As she heard his own words warning her to shut any signs of the such, Cat felt her own wrath intertwining with the one Irenicus cursed her –or, in his own view, blessed her– with; hot, dark and deadly, rising from her chest to her throat to her head, and then back down to her next words, filled to the brim with poison.

 

“You think you can do a better job than I?”

 

“A dumb, deaf halfwit could do a better job than you,” Dorn retorted, deliberately ignoring all the warning signs. 

 

Cat hissed, a spell beginning to form in her mind before she could stop herself.

 

_ How. Fucking. Dare. You. _

 

“If I cannot have my freedom, I will at least unleash my wrath as I please!” Dorn continued, oblivious to Cat's inner fight.

 

That sentence, though, shed light into her chaotic thoughts. Of course he was acting out. That wasn't him at all. She let go of the spell as she breathed out, somewhat calming herself with the reminder of everything wrong with Dorn's life. That was right; she had to confront him about it.

 

“You know this isn't about me at all!” She replied, walking in his direction. He tensed up immediately in the way he would if it were an enemy closing on him, and not her.

 

“This is—”

 

He averted his eyes. Cat reached up and touched his cheek, making him flinch as if he were in pain.

 

_ What the Hells has that bastard done to him? _

 

For a moment, Dorn locked eyes with Cat. There was a silent plea in them, something he could not or would not voice, but she saw it, clear as day. He did not want that. She tried to find the words to say, something that would fix everything… but then she remembered her promise to Imoen to never let Irenicus lay a hand on her again, and how it turned out. She remembered Dynaheir fighting and dying for her despite their differences while Minsc was forced to watch, she remembered Khalid, and then Jaheira at the Harpers’ quarter, utterly broken after losing the love of her life. She remembered each and every person she failed, but especially, she remembered Skie, and her voice faltered. The words she longed to say would not come out, because she knew they wouldn't be truthful. 

 

And thus, the moment was gone. Dorn slapped off her hand and glared at Cat, conflict still showing in his eyes.

 

“I know my own mind!” He proclaimed, though even his tone was unsure. The both of them knew otherwise.

 

If she couldn't free him, Cat felt she would have to at least push him to seek for a way out by himself. She stared at him, determined.

 

“You regret your oath to Ur-Gothoz,” she said, watching him flinch again and grit his teeth. “You tire of following his orders, not mine.”

 

Dorn fisted his hands, as if fighting himself, and gave in with a roar as he pushed Cat to the floor. She watched, in shock and horror, as he unsheathed his sword.

 

“No more words!” He barked out as he pointed an eerily silent Lilarcor at Cat's neck. “I will have blood!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics at the beginning are from Barns Courtney's Fire. It represents Dorn's struggle for control, and how well that ends up... Of course, his "lord" is Ur-Gothoz.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave a piece of feedback so I know whether I'm headed in the right track or not, it would be much appreciated, your kind comments always make my day <3 See you in the next one!


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